


hotel motel holiday inn

by amaelamin



Series: Hotel Motel Holiday Inn verse [1]
Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaelamin/pseuds/amaelamin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would you do if you worked at a haunted hotel, was secretly in love with the boss' drop-dead gorgeous son, and you had only two weeks to win a Christmas decoration competition?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on AFF on dec 26, 2012.

Min put down the front desk phone and waved Sungyeol over from his position near the hotel’s large double doors. “It’s 207. Lady says there’s _weird sounds coming from the bathroom_ ,” she said tiredly, raising her eyebrows. “It’s your turn to go.”

He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “Damn it, Maggie!”

*

“Hello? Room service?” He hardly had to knock once before the door was swung open by an anxious woman in her forties, twisting her hands jerkily. 

“Oh! Thank God you’re here!” she said, nearly dragging him into the half-dark room. “I’m so sorry to trouble you, but there’s been- there’s been,” she paused, clearly trying to figure out how to say she’s been hearing muffled wailing and bumps coming from the bathroom toilet without sounding insane, because Sungyeol knew exactly what _weird sounds coming from the bathroom_ meant. It also meant that Myungsoo was here tonight – 

Sungyeol forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He took her gently by the elbow and steered her away from the bathroom. “Let me handle this, ma’am. It’s probably the piping acting up again. It does that sometimes when it’s cold. Old pipes, you understand.”

The lady nodded uncertainly, and Sungyeol deposited her in the small room’s only armchair. He smiled what he hoped was a confident smile at her, and closed the bathroom door carefully behind him. 

“Maggie! Enough of this! How many times do I have to tell you to stop terrorizing the guests?” He hissed, careful to keep his voice low.

A long, wavering sigh answered him. 

“Maggie, if you don’t get out of this lady’s bathroom now I’m going to go get Mr Kim. You know we get few enough customers without you driving them away on top of everything.”

Maggie emerged from the shower’s drainpipe, floating down to sit daintily on the toilet’s cistern.

“He ignored me again today,” she pouted, her translucent hair waving gently in a non-existent breeze. 

Sungyeol took a deep breath to calm his frustration. “You’re a ghost. He’s human. What exactly do you expect to happen?”

“Lots of people have long-distance relationships,” she argued, huffing ice-cold air at him. 

“Not as far as the distance between the living and dead, Maggie,” Sungyeol rolled his eyes. “We’ve had this conversation a million times. Please let the poor lady have some peace?”

“He was with a girl,” she said, sighing and causing the toilet paper to unravel in snow-white swaths around the bathroom. 

“A girl?” 

*

Myungsoo closed his eyes, trying to lose himself in Soyu. She arched under him as he kissed down her neck, inhaling the smell of her and trailing her hair through his fingers. She drew her knees up on either side of his hips slowly, skirt sliding down her thighs, inviting and warm. He kissed her deeply and ground downwards into her, shutting his eyes firmly against the sight of the pile of accounts reports and bills waiting for him on the table. She worked a hand in between them and the breath hitched in his throat as she pressed the heel of her palm against his erection.

_“Go home.”_

Soyu started, pretty eyes flying open. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Myungsoo half-smiled, and dove for her mouth again, hands fisting in anger in the sheets. _Maggie! Not fucking now!_

Soyu avoided his lips, brow furrowed. “No, I’m sure I heard- ”

_“You heard right. Go away!”_

The bed began to shake alarmingly, and poor Soyu almost fell out of it in terror. 

“It’s just Maggie – our ghost – she has a crush on me, Soyu, but she’s harmless-” He followed her pleading around the room as she grabbed her things in a panic and burst out of the room. “Soyu, please!”

Myungsoo stopped at the doorway, gritting his teeth as he watched her run off down the corridor. Belatedly, he noticed Sungyeol standing there, staring at his unbuttoned shirt and feeling weak in the pants area. 

“What the hell are you looking at?”

Sungyeol quickly averted his gaze and continued pretending to vacuum the carpet. Myungsoo slammed the door behind him with such force that Sungyeol was momentarily afraid for the ancient woodwork, and a moment later Maggie came floating triumphantly out of it. She gave Sungyeol a high-five, which to Sungyeol was like trying to catch a frigid wind. 

Myungsoo flung the door open again, and Maggie conveniently disappeared to leave Sungyeol standing with his outspread hand in the air as if he’d decided on an impromptu mime performance.

Myungsoo gave him a brief weird glance before shaking a finger at him. “Tell Maggie she’s being exorcised. Tomorrow!” He slammed back into his room. 

“He can try,” Maggie whispered in Sungyeol’s ear. Sungyeol grinned.

*

“Where the hell have you been?” Min yawned, perpetually tired. It was not even ten yet, but they both felt the effects of being on their feet the whole day. The little hotel was only manned by the two of them, a disagreeable cook, and Mrs Cho the cleaning lady. It was possible to die of boredom on a slow day, Min had theorized to Sungyeol. Given that every day was a slow day, they were living on the edge.

Sungyeol supposed that not everyone could say they worked in a haunted hotel, but encounters of the supernatural kind were highly overrated in his opinion. Maggie was troublesome at worst and mildly entertaining at best, given that her one and only topic of conversation was Kim Myungsoo.

Sungyeol sighed. Kim Myungsoo. He was feeling guilty already.

 

_Min shared a quick sideways glance with Mr Kim Sr. sitting opposite from Sungyeol. He was the only person who’d answered their advertisement in the newspapers. “I’m serious. This hotel isn’t.. like other hotels. It has a lot of challenges. Things you wouldn’t come across normally. In other hotels.”_

_Sungyeol shrugged. “I don’t mind hard work.”_

_Another quick glance. “Do you scare easily?”_

_Sungyeol paused. These were weird questions. “…No more than other people, I guess?”_

_Mr Kim must have sensed his hesitation, because he broke out in a wide smile and quickly clasped his arm. “You’ve got the job! Can you start immediately?”_

_“Sure?” Sungyeol was given a uniform, his own locker, a map of the hotel and then told to go familiarize himself with it. Fifteen minutes later, his screams were echoing down to the lobby. Min shook her head sadly._

_The hotel was so small that he’d reached the top floor [fourth] in ten minutes. Five rooms per floor, numbered unevenly for some reason. Dark corridors and threadbcare carpets – well, no wonder nobody wanted to come here, he thought. He tried the knob of room 403 and had a quick look round the room – small, but clean and nice-smelling. It smelled like old books and good, solid wood – Sungyeol liked it, no matter how dated it all was. He was just about to turn around and come back down to the lobby when a sound to his right caught his attention, and he found himself face to face with Maggie._

" _Who are you?” She asked, cocking her translucent head curiously._

_He found that his legs had stopped working, and that he may or not have let out one or two bloodcurdling shrieks while falling to the floor in a helpless heap. Before he had completely died of terror, though, a door was opening behind him, and there was the sound of footsteps behind him._

" _Maggie, stop it!”_

" _I was only introducing myself.”_

" _Please.”_  

_“Okay, but only because you asked nicely.”_

_She disappeared, leaving only the faintest trace of a spectral giggle hanging in the air. Sungyeol was left staring glassily at the corridor, now totally devoid of – what? What was that he’d just seen? Sungyeol couldn’t believe it. Ghosts? Here? He had actually, really, just seen a ghost?_  

_Belatedly, he realized his saviour was holding out a hand to help him up. He raised his head, and came eye to eye with the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen. Sungyeol stared incredulously, unsure he could take any more excitement today. First, ghosts; now, ridiculously handsome men appearing willy-nilly from nowhere saving him from said ghosts. This was either the worst, or best, day of his life._

_The man pulled him to his feet, then dropped his hand. “I’m really sorry about that. I’m Kim Myungsoo, the owner’s son.” He sighed deeply before continuing. “We’ll be happy to reimburse you for your trouble-”_

_“Oh, I’m not a customer,” Sungyeol said hurriedly. “I’m, I work here. I think. I was just hired.”_

_“Really?” Myungsoo said, raising a perfect eyebrow, clearly wondering if he was going to have to save Sungyeol from Maggie every single day from now on._

_“Uh. I don’t know. Probably.” For a terrifying moment Sungyeol had the urge to say ‘now that I know what a handsome son the boss has’ but urgently kicked himself mentally before his stupid brain had a chance to embarrass him any further._

_“Um, Mr Kim, was that – what was that?” Sungyeol’s eyes widened as a horrifying prospect presented itself. “And is that all you have? Please tell me that’s the only one.”_

_Myungsoo frowned briefly. “You mean nobody told you that we have a ghost before they hired you?”_

_Sungyeol registered the use of the singular form of ‘ghost’, and sighed internally with almost-relief. Only one ghost to contend with, then. No problem. He half-shrugged. “I think they tried. Now that I think about it they were awfully desperate for me to take the job.”_

_A quarter of Sungyeol was elated at this chance at a conversation, no matter how sudden, with this god from heaven called Myungsoo. Another quarter was wondering what on earth he was doing, because any sane person would be marching downstairs to return his uniform and say ‘hasta la vista, baby’ to this madhouse; the remaining half of him was still trying its best not to pee in its pants._

_Myungsoo raked a hand through his dark hair, and the corresponding quarter of Sungyeol that was currently imagining Myungsoo in bed gave a ‘rawr’ of appreciation._

_“Well, now you know why. Think about it carefully. Even without Maggie this hotel has enough problems.”_

_Myungsoo quirked his eyebrow again in farewell and turned to go back into the room he’d come from. Sungyeol was nearly caught admiring the curve of his ass when Myungsoo turned around again abruptly._

_“And you don’t have to call me Mr Kim. We look like we’re the about same age.”_

_Sungyeol was met with twin looks of expectation from Min and Mr Kim Sr. when he finally trudged downstairs._

_“Everything okay?” Mr Kim asked anxiously. “Do you still want the job?”_

 

That had been five months ago. Sungyeol has no idea why he’d stayed, apart from the fact that he needed the money, but also undeniably because the boss’ son was drop-dead sexy. Maggie wasn’t so bad, either, once you got used to her. The difficult part was convincing her to stay away from the customers.

“A girl just ran out of here like she’d seen a ghost. Ha. Do you know why?”

Sungyeol made a guilty face at her. “Maggie and I may or may not have scared away Myungsoo’s date for the night.”

Min rolled her eyes as she paused in her report-making for the day. “Give him a break, Yeol. He already has a ghost stalking him all day and night. He doesn’t need some crazy lovesick idiot stopping him from getting laid as well.”

“He wouldn’t have if he was fucking _me_ ,” Sungyeol muttered, and Min tried to throw a pen at him. “You think Maggie would allow it?”

“I know, I know, I’m a horrible person,” Sungyeol huffed, and sat down. “What is my life, Min?”

“Useless and annoying,” she replied. 

*

Myungsoo stared at the numbers, knowing that they wouldn’t add up no matter how many times he did the math. They were dangerously in the red, and the bills wouldn’t stop coming. 

He sat back in the chair of his little room-cum-private office, wincing at the pain in his shoulders and back. Squinting at the clock, he realized just how late it was – after Soyu left he’d tried to jerk off to release tension but to no avail. He was just left frustrated and more tense than ever, arousal skittering in his blood; the only surefire remedy to that that he knew of was to do the accounts. 

“There is nothing worse than unreleased sexual tension,” he muttered to himself, falling into a daydream of himself as a professor giving a lecture on the workings of the human libido with sexy medical students sitting in the front row in very short skirts.

Myungsoo gazed up at the wall facing him and shook his head, rolling his eyes at himself. “What is my life?”

He blinked at the papers on his desk, and gave up. They were going to have to come up with some amazing plan soon, or the hotel was going to have to close. 

*

And so the days passed – Sungyeol begging Maggie on his knees to leave a windfall group of unsuspecting British backpackers alone, Myungsoo helping out with the housekeeping for lack of anything else to do (Sungyeol thought he looked very fetching in his apron), Min getting into a fight with the cook, the lines on old Mr Kim’s forehead becoming deeper and deeper. The world was winding slowly into winter, people snuggling into fleece-lined coats and sipping warm chocolatey drinks.  

It was nearly the end of the second week of December when Myungsoo came whirling into the tiny lobby waving a piece of paper and looking far more excited than Sungyeol or Min could ever remember seeing him. 

“Look! It’s a Christmas decorating competition! If we win we could put this place on the map!”

Sungyeol took it from him and read the flyer. “Christmas is near… Business Christmas decoration competition… be creative, win prizes – what prizes?”

“The first prize is a full-page advertisement in the national newspaper _as well as online ads in a related site of our choice_ ,” Myungsoo said, gesturing a bit madly with his hands. “Don’t you see? So if we win, we could choose a travel site. We’ve never been able to advertise before! This is daebak! If we can win this, who knows what might happen?”

“Yeah, Maggie’ll have even more people to chase away,” Min deadpanned.

“Speaking of Maggie, my cousin knows a priest who’s supposedly good at exorcisms,” Myungsoo lowered his voice. “What do you think?”

Sungyeol and Min exchanged a glance. “Well…”

“Not a chance,” Maggie said, appearing out of the floor and causing Myungsoo to jerk violently backwards. She floated on through the ceiling, his curses following her. Sungyeol patted his arm sympathetically.

“She’s not going to leave as long as you’re here,” he shrugged. “And seeing as you practically own the place…”

Myungsoo visibly deflated. “I might as well just get Dad to sell the whole stupid hotel. What’s the point?”

They watched him go up the stairs, steps heavier than usual. Min went back to her handphone, but Sungyeol continued watching the stairs long after Myungsoo had gone.

*

“Come in,” Myungsoo said, not looking up from his laptop.

Sungyeol entered the room slowly, always liking the cheap thrill that came with being in Myungsoo’s bedroom without ever being there for actual bedroom-y things. He may be a crazy lovesick idiot in Min’s words, but at least he was positive about it. 

“Hi,” he said, giving Myungsoo a small wave of the fingers when Myungsoo raised his head. Myungsoo looked at him blankly for a moment, and then smiled back.

“Sorry about just now. I just don’t know what to do about this place,” he gestured vaguely at the room. “And that damn Maggie.”

“No, I think… I think we should do it,” Sungyeol said, drinking in the uncertain look on Myungsoo’s face. It made him look years younger, like a lost little boy. It was easy to forget sometimes that they were the same age, given that Sungyeol mostly lounged around the hotel drinking coffee while Myungsoo quietly ran the place in his father’s stead, sweet-talking suppliers into letting them buy on credit and somehow keeping the entire place from falling apart.

Myungsoo wasn’t easy to figure out. It was like he was _there_ one minute and gone the next – Sungyeol wasn’t sure why he shut himself off from people but could never bring himself to broach the subject with Myungsoo or anyone else. He was pretty sure Myungsoo didn’t know Sungyeol had the crush of a lifetime on him, but – 

 

_Sungyeol picked up the camera, forgetting the vacuum for a moment. He hated hated hated vacuuming, but was on cleaning duty because Mrs Cho was off sick and so he’d decided to make the best out of a bad situation and do Myungsoo’s room first._

_Feeling like a stalker, he’d trailed fingers along shirts and bedsheets and arms of chairs, almost as if he could touch the body that had touched them last. The intensity of his initial feelings for Myungsoo had settled into something embarrassingly like a long-term schoolgirl crush – always harbouring the danger of blushing – or certain things hardening – at the wrong moment but also the simple happiness of joy at seeing Myungsoo smile. It was hell._

_He pressed a button on the camera to see the pictures stored in it, but before he could get past the first one he nearly dropped it at the voice that sounded behind him._

_“What are you doing?”_

_Myungsoo was standing there, eyes trained on the camera, voice utterly and shockingly cold. Sungyeol, mortified and more than a little scared at the expression on Myungsoo’s face, quickly replaced the camera and fumbled for the vacuum._

_“I’m sorry, so sorry – I was cleaning, I just wanted to see- I’m sorry, I’ll go now.”_

_He’d avoided Myungsoo totally the next day in disbelief at his own actions. They weren’t so close that he could go snooping around Myungsoo’s personal things, and for Myungsoo to find him like that – ugh, god. And then, he’d discovered a little cupcake – mocha flavoured – in his locker the day after with a nameless note under it:_ I’m sorry, overreacted _. Sungyeol hadn’t been able to stop smiling._

 

“What?' 

Sungyeol nodded encouragingly. “I think we should do your decorating thing. Got nothing to lose, apart from the fact that we don’t actually have any money to buy decorating stuff. You figure that out and we’ll do the rest.”

Myungsoo was quiet for a minute. “Thanks, Sungyeol.”

Sungyeol quirked his mouth. “No big deal. Maybe we can get Maggie to act as the Ghost of Christmas Past and pretend it’s some high-tech CGI.”

“No, I mean – thank you. For not quitting. For staying.” Sungyeol’s heart bloomed. “You and Min, I mean. Both of you.” Sungyeol’s heart deflated. 

“Oh. Yeah. Kind of don’t want to be homeless, you know, need a paycheck and everything,” Sungyeol mumbled, suddenly wanting to be far away from Myungsoo. “So…” 

He let himself out of the room, and when he glanced back Myungsoo was already typing away on his laptop.


	2. Chapter 2

 “Okay, so we need to discuss what we’re going to do,” Myungsoo said, handing out the coffees he’d bought that morning on his way to the hotel. Sungyeol took his, fingers brushing against Myungsoo’s wind-chilled ones, and he imagined little snowflakes dancing up and down his skin from the touch. Christmas was making him crazy. 

They had chosen to cluster around the little coffee table in the lobby for their meeting, Myungsoo’s poster lying before them as motivation. The deadline was only two weeks away, and Sungyeol couldn’t help but be pessimistic about their sad little hotel’s chances.

“We need to stand out if we’re going to win this competition,” Min said skeptically, knitting her brows together in thought. “All the businesses in this area are going to be competing. But what do we have that they don’t?”

The answer to this question was so painfully obvious that for a moment nobody spoke. 

“…I really don’t think Maggie is an asset we can capitalize on,” Sungyeol finally said, earning a wry twist of the mouth from Myungsoo. 

“Such big words, Lee Sungyeol.”

“I went to university, okay?”

“What we have that they don’t is the four of us,” Mr Kim said, encouraging and sweet as always. “We just need to put our heads together and we’ll come up with something.”

An hour and three arguments later, they still had nothing.

“What about – what about ‘Christmastime in the city?’” Sungyeol tried, and then frowned at himself. “Ugh.”

“Why is this so _hard_?” Myungsoo complained. “All the other hotels just put up lots of lights and figures and colourful posters and whatnot, and they look good. Let’s just go buy lots of lights.”

“I’m not sure our electrical grid can support so much electricity use,” Mr Kim said anxiously. 

“Sungyeol, can you make papier mache figures? Like reindeers?”

Sungyeol turned to Myungsoo, eyes incredulous. “I can’t even draw _stick_ figures, Myungsoo.”

Min threw up her hands and sat back, burrowing into the old sofa. “We’re getting nowhere. Maybe we should just take a day to think about it and talk tomorrow.” 

As this seemed to be the best idea any of them had had yet, Sungyeol stood up and stretched, yawning. “I’ll see you all tonight, then.” He’d just ended his first of three night shifts and was eager to get home to his tiny bed. “Myungsoo, you should go home more often. Maggie was quiet the entire night because you weren’t here.”

Myungsoo grumbled at this inaudibly, and reached for his coat. “I’ll walk you out. I want to get breakfast.”

Min threw Sungyeol a sneaky sideways glance, and Sungyeol raised a covert eyebrow in return. He quickly grabbed his own coat and bag and walked through the door Myungsoo was holding open for him. 

They never had snow, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t awfully cold; Sungyeol pulled his coat tighter around him and fervently wished he’d brought a scarf. The streets were silent this early in the morning, the only sounds being shops taking their time to open and the bright smells of coffee and bread being made. Sungyeol loved this neighbourhood, full of small cafés and old shophouses that the city had almost forgotten, their hotel being foremost among them. 

“Where are you getting breakfast?” Sungyeol asked Myungsoo, watching the harsh winter sunlight glint beautifully off his hair as they reached the end of the street. Sungyeol’s bus stop was across the road, seven bus stops from the tiny apartment above a dingy hardware store he called home. 

“I’ll see what’s open,” Myungsoo answered simply, unwinding his thick blue scarf from around his neck. “Take it, you’re shivering. You can bring it back later.”

Sungyeol’s surprised breath billowed out in little clouds. His first reaction was to refuse the kindness, not wanting to seem too forward, but he _was_ cold. And who knew how long he’d have to wait for the bus?

Sungyeol kept his eyes averted as he took the scarf and tucked it around himself, not trusting himself not to blush if he met Myungsoo’s gaze. “Thanks. I’ll give it back to you when I come back for my shift.”

Myungsoo gave him a wordless wave of his fingers as he stepped away in the direction of a small café close by that Sungyeol liked, and Sungyeol began walking to his bus stop. He inhaled the scent of Myungsoo surrounding him, twining his fingers into the worn material of the scarf. 

*

“I don’t like Christmas,” Maggie said stubbornly, floating halfway through the room’s floor. “Bad things happen on Christmas.”

“Drinking and fried chicken happen on Christmas,” Sungyeol corrected her, patting down the bedspread of the room he was cleaning lazily. “And presents and girls in warm snuggly sweaters.”

Maggie continued to float in a dark mood, starting to wail softly. “Bad things happen on Christmas,” she repeated, before disappearing. An erratic tapping began, sounding like fingernails on wood, but the sound was all around him and in the corners and walls at the same time so that he couldn’t pinpoint its exact location. Sungyeol just sighed and went to stock up the room’s little fridge, glad that the room’s occupier had left without having to go through this.

He went downstairs, taking the silent stairs two at a time. Even though the hotel wasn’t doing well, it was a rare occasion when there wasn’t at least a single customer staying a night or two – tonight was one of those times; and even though Sungyeol already _knew_ the hotel had a troublesome ghost with an ahjumma name and a schoolgirl crush he was still slightly spooked. There was just something about being in an old building all by yourself – you didn’t know what the walls had seen, who had walked those floors. 

Neither Mrs Cho nor the cook worked nights, so it was just Sungyeol and Maggie – oh, and Myungsoo, doing who knew what in that office of his. Sungyeol hoped he was working out a way to dredge up enough money to finance this Christmas decoration scheme of his.

He wanted Myungsoo to come down to talk to him. His eyes flicked to the blue scarf lying on the reception desk bundled up neatly. If the mountain won’t come to Ahmed…

No. That was just desperate. He’d wait.

He picked up his phone to play Cut the Rope (holiday gift! Yay!), and was almost at the eighth level before his phone nearly flew out of his hands at the sudden wrenching of stone underneath him. He staggered to his feet – an earthquake? _Here?_ – only to fall down painfully onto his knees, phone scattering metres away. He tried to make for the doorway to the kitchen, but the floor was pitching so violently he couldn’t get to his feet at all. The furniture – solid, heavy oak – veered dangerously, scraping the floor in deep gashes of wood groaning against stone and Sungyeol tried hard to fight down the sheer panic rising in his chest. How was this happening? 

The vase on the reception counter fell to the floor and smashed horribly, just as Sungyeol was thrown sideways into the bookcase. 

And just as abruptly as it had started, it all stopped. 

Sungyeol raised his head fearfully, his side throbbing in hot pain from the impact with the bookcase. Everything was quiet except for the sound of his frightened breaths. 

“Sungyeol!”

Myungsoo ran down the stairs, dropping to his knees beside Sungyeol on the floor. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

Sungyeol shook his head, but hissed when Myungsoo tried to help him to his feet by gripping his upper arms. “Nothing serious, I think. Just bruised.” He gestured at the bookcase, not really needing to explain. Myungsoo got up and ran to the door, opening it to see the extent of the destruction outside. 

“What’s happening? Is it bad?” Sungyeol called, slowly getting to his feet on his own. He needed to call his mother to see if she was alright. “Myungsoo?”

Myungsoo half-turned around, mumbling distractedly. “I – I don’t understand. Come here and see. It’s-”

Sungyeol walked slowly to the door, grimacing at the pain in his side. Myungsoo moved aside a little, and Sungyeol peered out. The icy night wind sliced at them, but apart from that, there was nothing. 

A car rumbled down the road, the moon shone down on everything, people were walking past huddled in their coats, and there was absolutely nothing wrong. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Sungyeol’s heart began racing again as they slowly turned back to the lobby. Huge thumps were coming from the basement directly beneath them. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

Sungyeol unconsciously curled a hand into the back of Myungsoo’s shirt, gripping tightly. 

_“Count!_ came the scream, so overwhelmingly loud that they both blindly ducked and clutched each other, screwing their eyes shut in anticipation of whatever new horror this was.  

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

Myungsoo was the first to open his eyes after the last thump died away, warily looking around the lobby and taking in the damage. None of the furniture was in its original place, half the books were on the floor, and the shards of the broken vase still lay where they had fallen. 

Sungyeol stirred in his arms, and Myungsoo realized he was trembling. “Hey,” he tried softly, noting that Sungyeol had yet to open his eyes. “I think… I think it’s over.”

They let go of each other self-consciously, Myungsoo patting Sungyeol’s back like he was trying to calm a skittery animal. 

“What did she mean by ‘count’?” Sungyeol asked, voice small. There was no doubt who the ‘she’ he meant was. 

Myungsoo shook his head wordlessly. “I never knew – I mean, she’s never done anything like this before.”

Sungyeol was staring at something in the direction of the coffee table, half-listening. “Myungsoo, look. Your competition poster.”

It was burnt to ash.

*

Manual work helped them stop the stuttering in their brains. Sungyeol grunted, pushing the heavy armchairs back to their original places and recklessly ignoring the twinges in his side. Myungsoo had quietly swept up the broken glass and picked up the fallen books. 

Sungyeol was angry. 

“THAT WASN’T A FUCKING JOKE, MAGGIE!”

He panted, sudden shout echoing in the empty hotel and fingers gripping the back of the armchair till his knuckles were white. “YOU COULD HAVE _HURT_ US-”

Myungsoo unthinkingly reached out for his hands, gripping them tight. “Shh, Sungyeol, shh. It’s done. It’s over.”

Sungyeol stared at him, swallowing hard. “How do you live with this?”

“I told you, she’s never done anything even near this before,” Myungsoo frowned again, face earnest. 

“We should go look down in the basement.”

Sungyeol’s eyes grew slowly wide, anger draining out of him and incredulity taking its place. “Oh, my god. Don’t you watch horror movies? You _never_ go look down in the basement! Maggie just caused an _earthquake_ , Kim Myungsoo!” Sungyeol shook their still-entwined hands for emphasis, and Myungsoo let go in sudden embarrassment. 

“You know Maggie isn’t malicious. Aren’t you curious?”

Sungyeol shot him a look of pure disgust. “Yeah, you’d totally be the first one to die if this were a movie.”

“You can’t let me go down there alone. What if something happened to me?” Myungsoo wheedled.

Sungyeol’s glare could have fried an egg. “I am _not_ going down there.” _Hell of a time to show this new side of you, Myungsoo_ , he thought.

“Okay. Suit yourself.”

Myungsoo turned on his heel and began fumbling behind the reception counter for the key to the basement. “Where did Min put it…”

Sungyeol tried to glare extra hard in the hope that it would somehow burn a hole through stupid Kim Myungsoo’s head. How had he liked his guy before? He took it all back.

“Got it!” Myungsoo smiled, holding up the key. 

“I think I know what to do. I should kill you and offer your soul up to Maggie, and then she can have you as her ghost boyfriend and she’ll leave the rest of us alone.”

“You’d miss me,” Myungsoo teased, and Sungyeol looked away. 

“I’ve never seen you this happy. Do you thrive on disaster or something?” he snapped, trying to cover the look on his face because _yes, I’d miss you._

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” Myungsoo muttered, starting to feel wrongfooted. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to-”

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Sungyeol marched to the basement door. “Open it then.”

*

Myungsoo flicked on the lights, and the harsh illumination made everything seem so sterile and whitewashed that Sungyeol couldn’t find it in himself to stay scared. Nothing had fallen over in here – it was just stacks of boxes and equipment as it always had been. 

Sungyeol looked over at Myungsoo, and Myungsoo shrugged. 

“What’s in all these boxes, Myungsoo?”

“For that you need my dad,” he answered, trailing fingers over the large cardboard squares, reading the tags on each one. “Only he knows. He’s a maniac for storage.”

_For plumbing, Wallpaper, Paint, Monthly reports 1975, Monthly reports 1976…_

“You know,” Myungsoo offered suddenly, voice muffled from the echoes, “this hotel wasn’t always like this. It used to be successful. I remember my father always being busy with it, having to be here all the time.”

“Why didn’t your father just sell it once nobody wanted to come anymore?” Sungyeol called out, losing Myungsoo among the shelves.

The answer didn’t arrive immediately, and Sungyeol instinctively knew without having to be told. What people didn’t talk about was as telling as the things they did.

“This hotel… he set it up with my mother. She chose the furniture, the paint, the bedsheets. Everything. This is the only thing that’s left of her now.”

Sungyeol pictured Myungsoo’s mother, beautiful and uncontainable, the woman who’d broken Mr Kim’s heart and left her little boy.

“Must be nice,” Sungyeol said, half to himself, and Myungsoo appeared from behind a stack of two boxes. “What?”

“To have someone love you so much they’d cherish anything you’d touched.”

Myungsoo looked at him for a long time, brows furrowed a little, and Sungyeol realized too late what it must be like for Myungsoo to have to confront those memories again. 

“Not so nice for the ones left behind,” Myungsoo said shortly, and moved on down the row.

Sungyeol bit his lip.

They explored in silence, but there was no Maggie, no supernatural clues, nothing. Myungsoo did find the hotel’s old Christmas decorations from at least ten years ago, though, and Sungyeol feigned more excitement than he felt to make up for his earlier blunder. “Maybe we can do a vintage theme. This hotel’s an antique, anyway.”

They brought the boxes upstairs, Sungyeol sneezing repeatedly from the dust and wincing in pain every single time from the bruises down his side. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Myungsoo asked, not meeting Sungyeol’s eyes as he opened the first box. 

“Would you kiss it better if I said no?” Sungyeol replied, and then immediately wanted to kick himself in the head. Myungsoo looked up, and gave a few short laughs in surprise. He blushed. 

_He blushed._

Sungyeol felt immediately bad for teasing him and there was a da-thump going in his chest for what Myungsoo may be thinking about him, but the pink in Myungsoo’s cheeks was making it a bit hard for him to form rational thoughts at the moment. 

Myungsoo opened the box, concentrating needlessly hard on it, and picked up something that was lying on the top of the pile of loose baubles. 

“Hey, look, a newspaper from 1982.” 

Sungyeol raised his eyebrows thoughtlessly, not really caring enough about old newspapers to give a verbal answer but not wanting to ignore Myungsoo. Myungsoo carefully set it aside on the coffee table. 

“I’ll read that later,” he said, mumbling to himself. 

The newspaper fell off the table and on to the floor, and both Myungsoo and Sungyeol stilled at that, Sungyeol pausing with a hand in mid-air.

Myungsoo had put it squarely on the table. Sungyeol had seen him do it.

“Maggie?” Myungsoo whispered, eyes darting to the corners of the room, bracing himself for more violence.

When nothing further happened, Sungyeol bent slowly and picked up the paper. He put it back on the coffee table, and they both stared at it for a few long moments. There it remained. 

“I’ll stay down here with you tonight,” Myungsoo said softly, eyes still roaming the lobby.

Despite everything, Sungyeol couldn’t stop the flare deep in his belly at that.


	3. Chapter 3

Myungsoo had fallen asleep on the sofa while Sungyeol was trying to do up the night’s report, wondering how to write about the earthquake, giant thumps from the basement and newspapers with a life of their own without making the report into the next Stephen King novel. He settled for ‘unusually high activity from Maggie’, and sighed. They’d have to have a serious talk with Min and Mr Kim in the morning.

Myungsoo shifted in his sleep, constrained by the small sofa. Sungyeol contemplated him a while, and went to get his coat to drape over Myungsoo. When did Sungyeol begin starring in a drama without his knowledge? The past twenty-four hours had been something right out of primetime television. Semi-romantic early-morning stroll in the winter air, getting attacked by a jealous ghost and getting his ribs wrecked in the process, and now the man he was currently head over heels for had fallen asleep while keeping him company through the night. The only thing that could have made it even more ridiculous was if Myungsoo had fallen asleep on his shoulder. 

He tucked the coat around Myungsoo gingerly and waited for the sunrise.

*

“Sleeping?!” Min whacked him with a sofa cushion once more before Sungyeol grudgingly opened an eye. _Oops_.

“Anyone could have walked in here and stolen stuff!”

“Nobody’d steal from us, they know we’re haunted,” Sungyeol grumbled, trying to stretch his cramped legs from falling asleep in the uncomfortable reception chair.

Min pinched his side hard for that and Sungyeol tumbled out of the chair with an incoherent yell, pain forcing him all the way awake. He doubled over and clutched his side, earning him a roll of the eyes from Min.

“So dramatic. It was just a pinch.”

“Lady, there is a lot you don’t know, and when I’m done telling you what happened last night you’re going to be sorry for that ‘just a pinch’,” Sungyeol warned, still panting slightly from the pain of the pinch to his bruised ribs.

Myungsoo was sitting up and rubbing his eyes blearily. “Sorry,” he mumbled, voice sleep-rough, unclear what he was apologizing for. “Your side still hurts, Yeol?”

The intimate use of his name was enough to distract Sungyeol, who was caught between being in pain and writhing in pleasure. He decided it was too early in the morning to be mooning over Myungsoo, so he filed this moment away under ‘To Blush Over Later’.

Min eyed the two of them suspiciously. “What’s going on? Do I even want to know?”

“No, but you’re going to, anyway,” Sungyeol said, glancing at his watch. “Let’s wait for Mr Kim to come in.”

Half an hour and an enthusiastic reenaction by Sungyeol later, Mr Kim and Min were speechless, Sungyeol was gloating over Min’s remorse for pinching him, and Myungsoo was frowning.

“That’s it. Maggie obviously has a beef with what we’re doing, so we’re leaving it alone,” Mr Kim said. “No more competition. It’s not worth one of you getting hurt.”

Myungsoo, who had been quiet the entire time, shook his head. “No. This is not just about the competition. Maggie doesn’t hurt people – yesterday, Sungyeol – that was an accident. There is something bigger going on here. We can’t just ignore it.”

“She told me bad things happen on Christmas,” Sungyeol suddenly remembered. "She said it a few hours before the madness started".

“Did anything like this happen last year?” Sungyeol looked round at the other three, who shook their heads.

“We just put up our mangy old tree as always. No trouble at all.” Min said, gesturing at one of the boxes they’d brought up from the basement labeled simply ‘Tree’.

“Okay, so… why now? The only difference between this year and last is that we’re taking part in that competition. Why hate a competition?”

“Maggie?” Mr Kim tried. “Are you there? Why are you doing this?”

There was no answer.

*

Myungsoo had trudged upstairs slowly after Sungyeol had left to sit alone in his office with his head in his hands, trying to stop the whirlwind of thoughts running through it. The mug of coffee he’d gotten from the kitchen had already gone from steaming to lukewarm.

_1\. Maggie wasn’t happy about something to do with Christmas, or what they were doing. Why?_

_2\. Ten thuds. She’d asked them to count, hadn’t she? What did ten thuds mean? Three thuds, and then seven more. Ten didn’t correspond to anything in this hotel, not the address, nor room numbers, nor year it was built. It couldn’t be her age – she was definitely a teenager or in her early twenties when she’d died. The number of years since her death? But that didn’t make sense. She had only started appearing six years ago._

_3\. Something had happened in 1982, if Maggie had indeed intended the newspaper to be a clue of some sort. If it had been the year of her death then that meant ‘ten’ wasn’t about how long it had been since she’d been alive._

_4\. How did Maggie die?_

Myungsoo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand, a gradual feeling that spread over his body like a cold hand running lightly over his skin. He opened his eyes, knowing what he would find.

Maggie was floating in a corner of the room, half-turned away from him. She was more transparent today than he’d ever seen her, almost blending into the wall and the shadows.

“I’m sorry he got hurt,” she whispered, becoming more solid for a moment. “I didn’t mean for him to be.”

“Won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” Myungsoo asked, voice soft. She looked at him then, eyes sad. She shook her head.

“You don’t want us to celebrate Christmas? Or is it the competition?”

She floated near to him, the rays of light coming through the window behind them illuminating her. She appeared as she always was – wearing a blue sleeveless dress that stopped just above her knees, and pretty blue heels.

“He said I was his Christmas present,” she whispered again in that low, sad voice. “Don’t leave me, Myungsoo. It’s dark and I’m scared.”

Myungsoo reached out his hand to her slowly, and she bent her head to look at it for a long time. A pearly tear ran down her cheek, fading before it hit the floor, and then like it she was gone. Myungsoo let his hand fall back to his side, his heart thudding in his chest and feeling like he wanted to cry for the first time in a long while.

*

 _Third night shift, finally_ , Sungyeol thought as he heaved his tired body through the hotel’s doors. _Maggie, I beg you, no nonsense tonight. I have had enough._

Min hadn’t left, and she sweetly declared her intention to stay through the night with Sungyeol in case something else happened. With difficulty they managed to persuade Mr Kim to leave – if Maggie decided on a repeat performance tonight in his beloved hotel they didn’t want him there to see it. Sungyeol took Min’s hand to kiss it as thanks for staying but blew a raspberry into it instead – she’d started calling him her ‘poor baby’ and he’d had enough.

“Is Myungsoo here?” Sungyeol asked, trying to sound casual.

“Mmhmm,” Min grinned at him. “I’m going to put up mistletoe, and I’m gonna get the two of you to take it for a test run.”

“Don’t be creepy,” Sungyeol scolded. “I don’t think the ice prince does mistletoe.”

“Not so ice prince-like around _you_ ,” she observed, naughty glint in her eye. “ _Yeol_.”

Sungyeol groaned. “Stop giving me hope, okay? Nothing’s going to happen. We both know it.”

Min shrugged, non-committal. “Help me put up the tree after you change.”

Sungyeol bundled up his nondescript black and white uniform and headed for the bathroom. Quickly changing his pants, he hesitated before putting on his button-down shirt, pausing to examine his bruises in the mirror. _Damn._ That bookcase had really done a number on him.

The bruises had started to purple, and they ran all the way down his side to his hip and spread over his bicep. He looked like he’d been through war, but at least his pretty face had been spared. He shook his head at his reflection. _Oh, Maggie._

The door to the bathroom opened, and when Myungsoo saw the shirtless Sungyeol in front of the mirrors he did an impressive two-step hop and skip backwards and then forwards again, like he couldn’t make up his mind whether to go or stay.

“Um,” he said intelligently. “Sorry. Should I-? Oh, wow,” he breathed, catching sight of Sungyeol’s battle scars. “Oh, those are bad.”

 _If only Min could see her ‘ice prince’ now,_ Sungyeol thought, almost wanting to laugh. Embarrassed and flustered Myungsoo was one of his favourite Myungsoos, given how rarely he appeared. Sungyeol quickly reached for his shirt, not wanting to make the situation even more uncomfortable by remaining bare-chested. Not like his pasty white body was anything he wanted Myungsoo looking at, anyway; not before he got a tan and gained three or four pounds of muscle at least.

Myungsoo made a little sound of protest before coming closer and catching Sungyeol’s arm to lift it away from his side. “Wow,” he said again. “You know you should rub bruises to get rid of them, right?”

“ _Pain_ ,” Sungyeol emphasized, looking down at Myungsoo from his two-inch advantage. “It hurts - _OW!!!_ ”

Myungsoo had balled up a hand into a fist and was rubbing one of the biggest bruises with his knuckles, other hand trying to keep Sungyeol in place by his arm and giggling like a maniac.

“Idiot! Stop!” He slapped at Myungsoo, managing to drive the pest off with a stinging smack to his neck.

Myungsoo let go, the both of them still laughing. Sungyeol cocked his head to one side.

“I’ll never understand you, Kim Myungsoo,” he said quietly, drinking in the sight of Myungsoo standing there, still smiling. He knew he was taking a risk with this, but the warmth in his chest from Myungsoo’s laughter was going to his head. “Closed one moment and open the next.”

Myungsoo chewed on his lip, suddenly tentative. “Am I ever closed with you?”

Sungyeol found he had no answer to this, and it floored him.

“I’m gonna go do the tree,” Myungsoo said, walking backwards. “See you outside.”


	4. Chapter 4

 “Min, what does it mean if someone says someone is open and closed so they can’t understand that person and that person asks if they’ve ever been closed with that someone?”

 

 

Min just continued uncoiling the Christmas lights. “I’m not going to pretend I understood that. I take it something happened in the bathroom? Not that I’ve been waiting for you to tell me or anything, obviously. Not like I haven’t noticed Myungsoo’s been avoiding you for the past hour and you look like a confused monkey trying to do maths.”

Sungyeol tried to process all her questions and insults at the same time, and settled for hitting her on the shoulder. Myungsoo, over the other side of the lobby hanging streamers on the wall, hadn’t even looked at him since rubbing his knuckles into Sungyeol’s skin. “I don’t know what happened, okay? I said I didn’t understand him ‘cos sometimes he acts like a normal person and other times he gets so private and turned-in on himself. Then he asked if he’s ever been closed around me, as if he didn’t think he was, and then ran out of the bathroom. And _now_ he’s pretending I don’t exist. What am I supposed to think?”

“You asked him just like that?”

“He may have been rubbing my bruises before that. While I was shirtless.”

Min just stopped and glared. “Anything _else_ you want to tell me?”

Sungyeol shrugged unhappily. “Why can’t he just let me like him and suffer in peace instead of being confusing?” _At least life is simple when he’s treating me like any other person. Lately.. I don’t know anymore._

“The both of you are idiots,” Min said, more to herself than anything.

*

Sungyeol got to put the star on the top of the tree because no one else could reach. The three of them stepped back to admire their work, and Min went to turn off the lobby lights so they could look at the sparkling tree in the darkness. 

The gold fairy lights glittered against the metallic streamers Myungsoo had layered around the tree, and reflected tiny beams off the baubles hanging delicately off the branches. It was beautiful, and yesterday’s scares seemed so far away in that instant, almost like they’d never happened. 

“You have done well, young padawan,” Min said solemnly, putting her hand out for Myungsoo to shake. Myungsoo took it, amused, and shook it. She turned to Sungyeol, who made an elaborate show of accepting her hand and shaking it humbly, ignoring the knowledge that he was going to have to shake Myungsoo’s hand next if he didn’t want things to look completely awkward between them. 

He turned self-consciously to Myungsoo, wondering if Myungsoo would put out his hand when Sungyeol offered his. If he could ignore Sungyeol for a total hour after laughing with him so freely in the bathroom, Sungyeol had no idea how he would react to this. Myungsoo smiled blandly and took his hand, however, shaking it lightly but firmly a few times, and then dropped it easily.

_That’s it? That’s it?!_ Sungyeol felt like screaming. Little pinpoints of light illuminated Myungsoo’s face in the darkness, and Myungsoo smiled at him again – that strange too-much smile you usually reserved for people you didn’t know. 

“See what I mean?” Sungyeol said softly to himself as Myungsoo mounted the stairs to his office. “Open and closed.”

*

Once safely in his room, Myungsoo let his head thud back against the wood of his door, feeling like a prize idiot. He screwed up his face, trying to block out the embarrassment of seeing Sungyeol’s eyes go wide like that when he’d asked if he was ever closed around Sungyeol – the last thing he wanted was for Sungyeol to get the wrong idea.

Myungsoo felt like hopping up and down in frustration but didn’t, even though he was alone. He had a hotel to run and no time to be acting like a child. Accounts, competition, bills, customers – he hadn’t told the rest yet, but he’d sent in their application to the competition yesterday when they’d met up to discuss what theme they were going to use. And that very night – fuck! What was he going to do? Could they withdraw?

His eyes fell on the 1982 newspaper at the very corner of his desk – he hadn’t opened it simply for fear of what he’d find. Living with a ghost day in and out for such a long time had numbed him to a lot – to her sudden appearances, the fact that he could see right through her, the chill that followed whenever she was around, her voice that was half in his ears and half in his head. She was just something that came with the hotel – he had never really thought about her as a person who used to be alive, who had probably died in such a terrible way that she hadn’t been able to move on. _How did Maggie die?_ If he opened the paper and found a picture of her when she was still alive he’d have no idea how to react. It would make everything too real. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Myungsoo’s head snapped up, suddenly feeling the solidness of the door behind him fall away as the terror and confusion of the night before came rushing back. 

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

This time the thumps didn’t shake the floor and echo throughout the hotel as they had last night when he’d been up here. They were in his bones, the sound rattling in his skull, melding with his breath so much so that he couldn’t separate the thuds from the beats of his heart. The carpet beneath his feet rolled back, his furniture rearranged themselves and transformed – the bed grew an old-fashioned headboard near the window instead of against the opposite wall, the now-plastic-and-metal desk next to it instead of in the middle of the room. The curtains bled their floral pattern and grew solid blooms of yellow till they were covered in the colour, and sunshine streamed in through the open window. A calendar faded into being on the wall. May 19th, 1980. _Wait, 1980? That couldn’t be right -_

Myungsoo stared, the thuds in his chest still going and making his fingers jump. The sounds of traffic below wafted up, and a woman was laughing outside the room. Myungsoo’s stomach lurched. He knew that voice, even though he hadn’t heard it for nearly sixteen years.

The door opened through him – over him, under him, around him – and his mother walked in. She must have only been, what, twenty? Twenty-one? Had she even met his father yet? She was holding another girl by the hand, and when the girl turned around laughing, Myungsoo dry-retched violently. 

It was Maggie, wearing exactly what she wore every time she appeared in the present. Maggie had died on this day, in that dress. She was going to be dead by the next morning. 

“Myungsoo?” 

The vision vanished, the two girls disappearing and colours draining and sunlight rolling back in on itself. The furniture dragged themselves back to where Myungsoo had put them, becoming dark wood once again. The calendar was the last to go, the date still emblazoned into the wall and into the back of Myungsoo’s brain. 

“Myungsoo, are you okay?”

Myungsoo blinked slowly, trying to hold on to the image of his mother, young and beautiful, hand in hand with Maggie in the sunshine. They had known each other. But his father had never mentioned – 

He felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently, and looked up into Sungyeol’s face. 

“How did you get in?” he asked faintly, swallowing hard and looking back at the door in confusion. It stood ajar, and he was half-leaning against the wall.

“It was open,” Sungyeol answered, frowning. “Myungsoo, you’re freaking me out. Did you hear the thuds? What happened?”

Myungsoo opened and closed his mouth, sure that he looked just as shattered as he felt. Sungyeol searched his face, frown becoming deeper.

“Min couldn’t hear them. She was arranging the reservations like nothing was happening. I had to see if you-”

Myungsoo gripped one of Sungyeol’s wrists. “I saw her, Sungyeol. I saw Maggie and my mother. They were friends.”

Sungyeol drew back slightly. “When you say _saw_ …”

Myungsoo stumbled over to the desk, snatching up the newspaper. “We have to read it. Maggie died on the 19th of May, 1980.”

Sungyeol sank down next to him on the bed unquestioningly, seeming to think silence was best in Myungsoo’s current state of feverish action. Myungsoo opened the newspaper and smoothed it over their laps, scanning the first page quickly. The newspaper was dated the 23rd of August, 1982, and Myungsoo paused at that. Why lead them to a newspaper dated so long after her death?

They looked through each page, but there was nothing – nothing about murders or deaths of a young girl, nothing about anybody named Maggie, until Sungyeol nudged him in the side and pointed excitedly to a small article in the corner of the page in the ‘Home News’ section.

“Sensational crime two years ago… young girl kidnapped and murdered… Maggie Cho, 19 years old… body recovered but no evidence found… cold case… may be closed if no further leads found by end year… that’s it?”

Myungsoo sat back, chest wrenching as Sungyeol still pored over the article. _She was murdered_. A thought occurred to him and he bent quickly over the newspaper again. “If she’d been killed in this hotel they’d have mentioned it, wouldn’t they?” he asked Sungyeol, who was biting his lower lip.  

Sungyeol nodded thoughtfully. “But that doesn’t make sense. Why haunt it then if she wasn’t killed here? Oh my god, Maggie,” he closed his eyes, breathing out heavily. “How could we have not known? Even your father didn’t know?”

Myungsoo was silent. He’d always taken it for granted that his parents had bought the hotel and owned it since then, but it hadn’t occurred to him to wonder from whom his father had bought it from. He’d clearly seen his mother in that room – with different furniture and drapes, different wallpaper, and she was also too young to have met and married his father yet. His father wasn’t so stupid as to have bought a hotel someone had been murdered in, was he? His father had to know about Maggie’s death if it’d been all over the papers. And Myungsoo _remembered_ how successful the hotel used to be, so that couldn’t be it. So if she wasn’t killed here… 

Myungsoo growled and dropped his head into his hands. They’d gotten some answers but a whole lot of new questions. 

“Come on.” He grabbed Sungyeol’s hand and pulled him off the bed, all the unease of earlier forgotten. “We need to talk to my father.”

* 

Sungyeol was reeling. Maggie – annoying Maggie who disturbed customers and was in love with Myungsoo, inasmuch as a paranormal entity could be in love with anyone – had been murdered twenty-two years ago. She hadn’t even been twenty years old. She wasn’t just some ghost that happened to be haunting the hotel just for kicks. 

They’d called Myungsoo’s father on speaker in the lobby, the three of them gathered close around the iPhone on the table. He’d woken up sleepy and confused, but answered Myungsoo’s urgent questions well enough once he’d heard what had happened. He hardly remembered anything – he remembered the case, but not how she’d been killed, and he wasn’t sure if Myungsoo’s mother had ever mentioned Maggie. But he was sure she hadn’t been killed in the hotel – he wouldn’t have bought it otherwise. “She only showed up about six years ago,” he said, helplessly.

Min was huddled in a corner of the sofa. “I didn’t want to know any of this,” she muttered. “It makes things too real.” Myungsoo looked up at that, her words echoing his earlier thoughts.

_“He said I was his Christmas present,” she whispered again in that low, sad voice. “Don’t leave me, Myungsoo. It’s dark and I’m scared.”_

_“She told me bad things happen on Christmas,” Sungyeol suddenly remembered._

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

_Sungyeol unconsciously curled a hand into the back of Myungsoo’s shirt, gripping tightly._

_“Count! came the scream, so overwhelmingly loud that they both blindly ducked and clutched each other, screwing their eyes shut in anticipation of whatever new horror this was._

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

_Sungyeol was staring at something in the direction of the coffee table, half-listening. “Myungsoo, look. Your competition poster.”_

_It was burnt to ash._

Myungsoo took a deep breath, but before he could speak Sungyeol had leaned forward. “We need to find out more. Where she was found, who the suspects were. Anything that could help us understand what’s going on.”

“I’ll talk to you later, appa,” Myungsoo said, switching off the speaker function and putting the phone to his ear. “Go back to sleep. Tell me if you remember anything, okay?”

Myungsoo turned to go upstairs and bring his laptop down so they could search, but Min stopped him. “What you need are newspaper records. You’re not going to find anything on the internet from so long ago.”

“The newspaper archives are all in the library. That’s closed already by now,” Sungyeol said. “I’ll go in the morning?”

Myungsoo nodded his head absently, failing to shut out the image of his mother from his mind. His mother, only a few years younger than him – why hadn’t she ever mentioned Maggie? Did she have anything to do with the reason why Maggie had come back to the hotel?

The rare sight of customers presented itself; a small family up by late coach from Busan here to stay in the capital for a few nights. Myungsoo and Sungyeol quickly stood to welcome and help them with their bags, Min manning the reception and making cheerful small talk. _Customers_ , Myungsoo thought. _The last thing on my mind right now but the first thing we need_.

Myungsoo and Sungyeol took charge of the family’s luggage and entered the tiny claustrophobic lift to go up to the third floor. Room 307, Min had instructed them. 

The lift shuddered as it started on its short way, and it was entirely silent in the lift. They were alone for the second time that night and Sungyeol could feel his face heating up from self-consciousness. Despite everything that had happened since the bathroom – which already seemed like ten hours ago – Sungyeol still couldn’t shake the memory of the way Myungsoo had laughed then, eyes bright and smile easy. Fast-forward to the handshake beside the tree and it was almost like that Myungsoo had been an entirely different person. And then finding Myungsoo slumped against the wall of his room, wrecked and looking past him to things only Myungsoo could see – Sungyeol twisted his mouth, chest aching.

Myungsoo was staring at the floor, angled awkwardly away from Sungyeol in order not to crowd him in the small elevator, and waited for Sungyeol to exit the lift first when it pinged their arrival on the third floor. They deposited the luggage outside the family’s room without speaking and waited for them to arrive. 

Sungyeol looked at Myungsoo out of the corner of his eye.

“Are you okay?” he tried, figuring that general niceties would do as well as anything. 

Myungsoo’s head snapped up and he smiled and nodded a little too emphatically, then seemed to realize what he was doing and gave a short embarrassed laugh. Sungyeol rolled his eyes.

“You’re being weird. Stop it.”

Myungsoo whirled round, eyes wide in protest. “I’m not being weird-”

They had to stop and bow as the family arrived finally, done with the paperwork, and ushered them into the room, bowing again as they retreated. Sungyeol elbowed Myungsoo on the way out, earning him a punch in the small of his back. 

“I know seeing my sexy body may have been a bit too much for you to take but there’s no need to be all weird about it,” Sungyeol joked once the door was closed, dying inside at how much he wanted it to be true. 

Myungsoo’s eyebrows flew into his hair. “I wasn’t looking at your se- your body! I was just playing around!”

The sharp bite of disappointment, no matter how illogical, left Sungyeol with no answer but to elbow Myungsoo again. 

“It’s okay, seeing as Maggie might accidentally kill one of us before this whole thing is over you might as well take a good long look,” Sungyeol continued, cursing his inability to stop. 

“She said she was sorry,” Myungsoo said, stopping abruptly and looking up at Sungyeol. Sungyeol’s breath hitched in his chest at the vulnerable expression on Myungsoo’s face. He looked like a little boy, suddenly sad and earnest. “I forgot to tell you. She said she didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You spoke to her?” Sungyeol asked. “I haven’t seen her since early yesterday evening.”

Myungsoo nodded, seeing the tear slip down Maggie’s cheek again in his mind’s eye. He looked away and down, tiny frown appearing on his brow at the now-entangled visions of both his mother and Maggie, years and years before death and abandonment had reared their ugly heads. 

Sungyeol watched his hand raise itself to Myungsoo’s cheek from far outside of himself, both knowing what he was doing and yet unable to control his actions. He cupped Myungsoo’s cheek and pressed the warmth of his hand to Myungsoo’s skin, stroking once with his thumb. Myungsoo stared back at him as he did it, the both of them gone stock-still. 

“I- I hope you’re okay,” Sungyeol stammered, letting his hand fall to his side and already curling up with chagrin inside. “Earlier, in the room. You didn’t look that good. Upset.”

“I’ll see you in the morning. I’m sure you have a lot to take care of in your office,” Sungyeol went on, almost desperately. _Don’t come with me downstairs please please please I’m an idiot and I’ve crossed the line just let me die on my own and stay away from me for at least two years go to your office Myungsoo come on_

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Myungsoo said, still staring. “I’ll go up then.”

Sungyeol gave him a quick wave and jogged towards the stairs, fighting the urge to flat-out run.

*


	5. Chapter 5

Myungsoo stood unmoving in the corridor, his fingers just hovering over his cheek as though he would erase the feel of Sungyeol’s hand on his skin if he replaced them with his own. An unexpected muffled thump from room 307 jolted him from his reverie, and he walked slowly up to his office. 

*

Min was calmly watching Sungyeol perform some sort of impassioned interpretive dance. 

He had clattered into the lobby at a dead run and grabbed her hand to hit his own head with it, Min helpfully making a fist so her knuckles would rap his skull more satisfyingly even though she had no idea what had brought on this latest fit. Hitting Sungyeol was always fun, anyway. After his head had begun to hurt too much, she guessed, he’d taken to throwing himself around the lobby and off and on the sofa, all the while making a high-pitched whine and screwing up his face unattractively. While amusing, this became old rather quickly.

“So what’s caused my Lee Sungyeol to finally lose his mind?”

Sungyeol looked up in the act of trying to pull out handfuls of hair. “That’s right. Yes. I’ve finally lost my mind, ‘cos that’s the only explanation for what I just did.”

Min raised an eyebrow as a horrible but very possible thought occurred to her. “Where’s Myungsoo-? _Yah_ , you didn’t kiss him and then have him reject you, did you?”

Sungyeol paused in his pacing. “No, thank god that at least I am spared that humiliation. I didn’t kiss him.” He resumed pacing.

“Then _what_ did you do, stupid?”

Sungyeol stopped again, brow furrowing as he gestured vaguely in front of him. “Some stroke-y caress-y cheek thing.”

Min folded her arms and leveled her gaze at Sungyeol. “A stroke-y, caress-y cheek thing?”

Sungyeol flopped dramatically onto the sofa and flung his arms over his eyes. “He looked so sad! Remember earlier when I asked you if you heard anything, and then when I went up to see if he’d heard the thumps too he was staring into space with the saddest look on his face but then we came down here and he looked alright, but then when we went to give that family their luggage we were talking and again he looked so sad and.” Sungyeol gave a huge sigh. 

“Short sentences are your friend, Sungyeol,” Min said, tapping her foot on the floor. Sungyeol pouted his lips at her, the only visible part of his face under his skinny arms. “And what drama do you think you’re acting in going around stroking people’s faces? Who _does_ that? He’s practically your boss, Sungyeol! And with everything that’s happening, did you really have to do this now?”

No answer.

“Listen,” she paused and gentled her voice, looking at the defeated heap of long legs and bony elbows in front of her. “I’ve worked here for four years. Myungsoo has never had a girlfriend – or, you know, a boyfriend. Mr Kim was always worrying, and at first I thought Myungsoo was just keeping his private business from his father, but then I realized that he was here _all_ the time. He only rarely goes out with his own friends. Off and on he’ll bring a girl back but she’d be gone the next day. 

Why do you think that is, Sungyeol?”

Sungyeol let his arms drop to his side slowly. “What are you trying to say?”

Min sat next to him and pulled him in for a hug. “Just – you already know I call him the ice prince. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Sungyeol turned into the hug, laying his head in the crook of her neck. “Can I go home?” he asked in his most pathetic voice. 

Min unceremoniously shoved him away from her. “Don’t joke. It’s your night shift, not mine. Just because you just made your love life ten times more complicated doesn’t mean I have to suffer for it.”

Sungyeol was gathering steam for the pout of the year when she put a hand on his arm. “You didn’t tell me what he did when you decided to get all handsy with his face.”

Sungyeol settled for a twist of his mouth. “He didn’t do anything. He just stared at me.”

“Well, we have that to be thankful for at least,” Min mumbled, getting up to go back to the reception. “Yah, there’s laundry to be done-”

“Min, you said just now – boyfriend?” Sungyeol looked up at her, trying hard but failing to hide the hopeful note in his voice. It took Min a moment to work out what he was asking, and sighed in mock annoyance when she did. 

“I have no idea if he’s totally straight, or bi, or whether he only truly gets hot for turtles, Sungyeol. I said he’s brought girls back here before, never guys. That’s all I know. Do you think you can find it in you to focus on our Maggie problem instead?”

Sungyeol had the grace to look chastened. “If he doesn’t fire me tomorrow, yeah.”

*

Myungsoo came down the stairs the next morning, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing Sungyeol. He schooled his features into something approaching normalcy, only to be disappointed; Sungyeol was nowhere to be found. 

“He’s gone to the library, like he said,” Min said casually when she noticed him. “Good morning.”

Myungsoo was about to reply before he stopped, realizing that he hadn’t actually asked where Sungyeol was. He narrowed his eyes at Min, who had got up to gather her things. “Can you wait around until your father comes? I’ve already made coffee for you and there should be a checkout from room 205 at nine am. Your father should be here before then, though.”

Myungsoo nodded, accepting a fresh cup of coffee from her. Left alone, he plopped onto the sofa to wait for his father, and postponed thinking about his hundred and one problems as long as his mug still contained coffee.

Truthfully, he was thankful Sungyeol wasn’t there. How would he have acted? Did he want Sungyeol to behave as if nothing had happened? Maybe Sungyeol was just being nice and – well, okay, nobody had ever caressed his cheek like that except that one girl when she was in bed with him _and he didn’t need to start thinking about Sungyeol in connection with his bed_ – and, oh, fuck it. The day Myungsoo was honest with himself was the day they’d win Hotel of the Year. He didn’t want to think about any of this.

So: Maggie. His father couldn’t remember anything useful, and he’d have to wait to see what Sungyeol could find out. He’d tried searching for information on the internet last night, but the only thing he’d found was that there’d been an unnamed suspect who was freed after only a week because there wasn’t enough evidence to pin anything on him. He’d dug a bit and came up with a name: Han Seunghoon, prominent lawyer – but this was from a tabloid of the time and he had no idea how reliable this was. 

So much for postponing mulling over his problems. 

“You never told me you knew my mother, Maggie,” he said out loud, hopeful, and to his complete surprise she answered him. 

“I never knew your mother.” She looked at him sideways from her perch on the sofa’s arm, swinging her legs through the fabric. “You don’t have a mother.”

Myungsoo stared, unsure where this was going and if he wanted to hear any more. “Yes… yes I do, Maggie. Everyone has a mother. You knew her before – before you died. She was with you that day.”

Maggie watched him for a while, face unreadable. “Yoora is your mother?”

Myungsoo nodded. 

“Where is she then?”

Myungsoo gave her a lopsided smile, knowing this was coming. “She left. A long time ago.”

Maggie scowled. “She left you too? She left me. She left me, all alone, while she went to dance with that scrawny boy in glasses and I – and I-”

She stopped and fixed him with her gaze. “When I came back here I found the scrawny boy with glasses, but no Yoora. I thought she’d left him as well, just like me. And now it turns out she’d left you, too.” 

The front door tinkled as Mr Kim hurried in, coming up short as he spied Maggie and his son, side by side on the sofa. He fidgeted, not sure how to react beyond a mumbled hello to the both of them. 

“Scrawny boy with glasses,” Maggie repeated, looking at Mr Kim. “Why did she get to marry, and have a son? Why not me?”

*

“I think we need to call your mother.”

“ _No_. We don’t need her help.”

“Myungsoo, she was there. She probably knows things no one else can tell us.”

Silence.

“Why would she bother to help?”

“She’s not as bad as-”

“Why do you always defend her? She left you, too!”

“It’s not-”

“You think I was too young to know? I heard you crying when she left. And every single night after that, before you sent me to stay with grandfather! Why do you always act as if she didn’t completely fuck everything up?”

“ _Myungsoo!_ ”

A door slammed.

*

Myungsoo went home feeling tired to the bone. His room, the same one he’d lived in all his life, had only changed cosmetically as he’d grown up. From dinosaurs and toys to posters of girl groups to muted colours and books; but always the same bed, the same desk, the same wardrobe. He could be twenty-one in this room or twelve, because it had quietly seen him through new teeth and grazed knees and painful puberty while always offering a safe place to come home to. He could lock it, too, which he was thankful for because he did not want to see his father when he got back.

He fished out his phone from his pocket and glared at it, feeling perverse. On edge from his fight with his father, he now turned his annoyance irrationally towards Sungyeol. Why hadn’t he gotten back to him yet? It had to be at least two hours since Sungyeol’d gone to the library. 

_Why are you so slow? Haven’t you found anything yet?_

Myungsoo typed the words of the message and lay back on the bed, kicking his feet in short sharp jerks and trying to convince himself that the only reason he wanted to hear from Sungyeol was to know what he had found so far. 

*

Sungyeol jerked awake, blinking his eyes rapidly. He looked around in embarrassment, hurriedly wiping the drool from his chin and digging his phone out of his jeans pocket. The loud incoming message tone was making more than one person stare around in irritation at him and his fingers slipped as he quickly opened the message. 

_From: darling_

Why are you so slow? Haven’t you found anything yet?

Sungyeol looked down at his bag in his lap, remembering how he’d told himself he was just going to rest in this armchair for just five minutes… and that had been one and a half hours ago. He _hated_ night shifts.

He pushed himself out of the chair, raising an eye at the message displayed on the screen of his phone. Myungsoo was being fairly aggressive – was he mad at Sungyeol for what happened last night? Sungyeol gave a huge sigh, trying to shake the lethargy and disappointment from his limbs. He knew it, and now he’d just have to face up to it.

He found his way to the microfilm section and waited for the library assistant to give him directions to what he needed. How was he going to reply Myungsoo when he’d been asleep instead of searching? Maybe he could just ignore the message until he’d found something and say he’d been engrossed in his work.

He looked down at his phone again. The terseness and accusatory tone of the message hurt more than he would care to admit.

_I’m still searching._ He messaged back quickly, figuring that Myungsoo would leave him alone after this. 

*

The phone in his hands buzzed and Myungsoo quickly brought his hands over his face to read the message. 

_From: Lee Sungyeol (hotel)_

I’m still searching.

Myungsoo couldn’t keep down the irritation he felt. How was he supposed to reply to something like that? Stupid Sungyeol, he had to flummox him at every turn, didn’t he? What with surprise attack cheek caresses and standing around shirtless in bathrooms and now not-impolite-not-friendly message replies.

Myungsoo typed quickly and made a face at his childish response, but sent it anyway.

*

_From: darling_

Search faster.

Sungyeol scoffed a bit too loudly, earning him a look from the library assistant who was helping him. He apologized quickly and scoffed again, a little softer this time. What was up with this kid?

*

_From: Lee Sungyeol (hotel)_

I just finished working all night while you are probably at home sitting on your ass right now. Don’t tell me to ‘search faster’.

Myungsoo sat up, grinning. 

*

_From: darling_

I’m your boss. I can tell you to do anything.

_From: Lee Sungyeol (hotel)_

YOUR FATHER is my boss. You just hang around the hotel cos you have nothing better to do.

_From: darling_

I hang around because I want to see your pretty face :D

Sungyeol stilled, feeling his cheeks heat up. Pretty? Was this an insult or a compliment?

_From: Lee Sungyeol (hotel)_

Yah, I’m handsome, not pretty. Stop disturbing me I’m doing work.

Sungyeol quickly shoved his phone into his bag, refusing to answer the itch in his fingers and see if Myungsoo would reply. He took the slip of paper containing directions to the microfilms he wanted from the library assistant and pushed open the door to the dark room, his mind whirling.

*

Myungsoo smiled down at his phone, and as a thought struck him, opened up his contacts and typed in a new name for Sungyeol. He leaned back in his bed feeling infinitely better as a curious feeling charged round and round in his blood.

*


	6. Chapter 6

_”He wants me to go dancing with him,” Yoora says, breathlessly. “You don’t mind, do you? You’ll be okay here? I’ll be back early, I promise.”_

_Maggie smiles words she doesn’t feel and watches the two of them long after they’ve disappeared out of the hotel. It’s always Yoora the boys want._

_And so when the man asks – he smiles so openly and looks so handsome in his leather jacket and his hair looks so soft and he holds her hand so gently and she has something painful to prove and she’s only nineteen – she goes, and never sees Yoora again._

_*_

_Myungsoo is fourteen when a girl first asks him out on a date. Her friends cluster behind her at the back of the classroom where he sits, their giggling grating on his nerves and embarrassing him. The girl is twisting her fingers and blushing, and he waits for her to ask whatever it is she wants. His other classmates watch out of the corner of their eyes._

_His refusal is polite but cold, short and to the point. “No, thank you.”_

_Her face drops almost comically. He’s gotten used to that, over the years; sometimes they get angry and sometimes they just shrug, and sometimes when he does the picking up they think their future is opening up. But it never does – it’s a night spent together and then breakfast alone. Myungsoo doesn’t do ‘future’, not even if the sex was good._

_The way he sees it, there isn’t any point._

_*_

_Myungsoo frowns, wondering why his door is open. He quickens his pace and when he enters his room he finds the new employee standing in the middle of his room, one hip against the back of his desk chair and Myungsoo’s camera in his hands. The boy hasn’t noticed him yet, intent on the camera he is cradling. Myungsoo panics._

_It’s not that there’s anything of value in the camera – none of his pictures are of anything special, anyway. He isn’t afraid the boy would drop and break it, because he – Sungyeol, the name rolls off his tongue – doesn’t seem like the clumsy sort, unlike him. It’s the fact that the boy is standing in his private room like he belongs there, casual and quiet, like he could blend in and the room would never have been just Myungsoo’s. He could leave traces on the sheets and the desk, press his fingertips into the windowpanes and chairs and become such a part of the wood and stone that Myungsoo would never be able to erase his imprints no matter how long after Sungyeol leaves him._

_“What are you doing?”_

_Myungsoo watches Sungyeol’s head snap up, his eyes going wide, watches the knowledge dawn on him that he’s been caught. Sungyeol shoves the camera back on the desk and fumbles for the vacuum._

_“I’m sorry, so sorry – I was cleaning, I just wanted to see- I’m sorry, I’ll go now.”_

_Sungyeol squeezes past him out into the corridor, and for a moment he’s so close that if Myungsoo reached out he would have been able to put an arm around him to keep him there. He would have been able to pull Sungyeol to him, his back flush against Myungsoo’s front, and feel his heartbeat through his skin._

_For days later Myungsoo wonders uselessly why he didn’t._

*

The next day, Sungyeol showed them the pictures of the articles he’d found that he’d snapped with his phone camera. “Honestly, this isn’t anything. They’re not going to divulge every single piece of information the police got in the news.”

Myungsoo had to agree with this. There was no way they were going to gain access to police archives, though, so there was no point wondering what they might have missed out. The information in the articles Sungyeol had managed to dig up were more or less what they already knew, but with details they’d rather not have known. Maggie had been reported missing on the 20th of May, 1980 – _by whom?_ Myungsoo wondered, but truth be told he already knew – and her body had been found dumped in an alleyway four days later.

“’Mode of death appears to be suffocation by strangulation,” Sungyeol read out, voice faltering. Min ran a hand through his hair, the action seemingly careless but for the extra comforting second it lingered. Myungsoo watched her fingers slip through the soft strands.

“Here’s the other articles… ‘Information given by a witness who requested to remain anonymous led police to Han Seunghoon, 36’… ‘released after eight days due to the availability of circumstantial evidence only’…this article is the same, this is- we already know this. Um, ‘Well-known lawyer, Han, expressed concern over the death of the victim but urged police to focus their energies on catching the true perpetrator’. That’s pretty much all there is.”

“Han Seunghoon,” Mr Kim said thoughtfully. “Han Seunghoon. Where have I seen that name before? And I don’t mean in all these articles. I’ve seen it recently.”

“Who was the anonymous witness?” Sungyeol interjected, and Myungsoo looked up.

“My mother,” he said without rancour. “It has to be.” He met his father’s eyes, and smiled a small half-smile. Mr Kim smiled instantly back, eyes wrinkling. It was always the same after they fought over his mother; Myungsoo apologetic and ashamed, and Mr Kim forgiving and sad.

Myungsoo felt suddenly self-conscious, because even he could tell what everyone was thinking. It seemed silly not to try to contact his mother at this point – they had been friends, she was with Maggie the day she’d died, and had possibly been the one who’d made the missing persons report the day after. She could also have been the anonymous witness with evidence that had ultimately proven circumstantial, or not strong enough to warrant a conviction.

And yet.

“You know, maybe if we ignore all of this it’ll just go away,” he tried, and the disgusted look Sungyeol gave him – _ugly purple bruises all down Sungyeol’s ribs, blooming over his arm and hip_ – was enough to change his mind, his neck burning with annoyance at himself for even suggesting they overlook everything due to his own mommy issues.

“You call her,” he told his father, ducking his head. “And you speak to her.” He got up, hating the eyes on him and how childish he was being right then. “I’ll be… I’ll be in my room.”

*

“Go upstairs.”

“No!”

“Go, Sungyeol, your _darling_ is in there agonizing over his mother. Go make him feel better.”

“I knew I should never have shown you the messages.”

“Too late. What’s my name in your phone?”

“Demon queen of hell.”

“And don’t forget it. Stupid Lee Sungyeol, _go!_ ”

“What if he wants to be alone?! And knowing me, I’ll just say something dumb and get chased out or something-”

“Or _something._ ”

“Are you kidding me right now? Just two days ago you were yelling at me for stroking his cheek and now you’re all ‘ _or something_ ’? Stop waggling your eyebrows at me.”

“Look, that was before he decided to send you what I suppose must be termed – in the absence of any other more appropriate word – flirty messages. God help you, even your flirting is weird.”

“Was it really flirting? Really? You really think so? And he didn’t seem mad at me when he came down yesterday morning?”

“What are you two whispering about over there?”

“Nothing, Mr Kim!”

*

Sungyeol raised his hand to knock on Myungsoo’s door, knowing he would never have come up here if Min hadn’t frogmarched him every single step of the way and was now watching him from the stairwell. He felt a bit sick.

“ _Please don’t make me do this!_ ” he hissed at her, and she made a ‘X’ sign with her arms back at him. “You are not coming down until you talk,” she tried to shout quietly at him. “I’m sick of you both doing idiot things and being awkward with each other!”

“Sungyeol?”

Myungsoo leaned out of the door frame to see Min hurrying back down the stairs. “What’s going on?”

Sungyeol cursed Min. “Uh, nothing. Just wanted to see, you know, if you’re okay.”

Myungsoo’s face stiffened. “I’m fine.”

“Um. Your father’s calling… her. Now.”

“I know,” Myungsoo said, folding his arms more for a sort of barrier than anything else. Now that they were alone together his insides were doing unacceptable things. He tried for nonchalance. “It’ll be good if he can find out something from her that could help us.”

Sungyeol’s hands clenched and unclenched themselves by his sides. Oh, what a feeling this was to want to go and stay at the same time.

“Do you want to have a coffee with me?” Sungyeol blurted out the first thing he could think of, feeling slightly horrified at himself. Why did having a crush always feel like the end of the world?

Myungsoo looked taken aback. Was this the wrong thing to say? Did he not like coffee? Stupid, of course he liked coffee, Sungyeol had seen him drink it. Did he not like Sungyeol?

“Where?” Myungsoo asked. “I mean, we should stay around… the phonecall?”

“Of course, of course,” Sungyeol’s words were tripping over one another in their haste to get out of his mouth. “I could get coffee? And bring it up here, maybe? No, that’s stupid-”

“I don’t mind-”

“-you probably don’t want-”

“-I mean, if _you_ want to-”

“Really?”

“What?”

“What?”

And so Sungyeol went downstairs, made coffee, poured two cups of it,

_whatamIdoingwhatamIdoingwhatamIdoingwhatamIdoingwhatamIdoing_

and brought it upstairs to Myungsoo who was so nervous he had sat down and stood up six times waiting for Sungyeol to get back.

Sungyeol gave Myungsoo his cup, and they sat side by side on Myungsoo’s bed drinking their coffee. Myungsoo’s first gulp was so big he burnt his tongue and he tried his best to reassure Sungyeol he was alright through the tears in his eyes.

 _How did I ever end up in this situation?_ Sungyeol asked himself, the silence overpowering his normally-overactive power of speech. Sitting with Myungsoo on his bed drinking coffee and not talking – wow, this sure beat his best fantasies upside down. Sungyeol really loved coffee, but this was pushing things a bit too far.

Myungsoo was sitting close enough that Sungyeol could feel the heat of his thigh seeping into his own. What if Sungyeol just –

“You’ll never guess your name in my phone,” Myungsoo said abruptly, causing Sungyeol to almost have a repeat performance of Myungsoo’s streaming eyes and burnt tongue pantomime of earlier.

“If you can, I’ll get my dad to give you a raise.”

“And where is the money going to come from? Are you going to dock poor old Mrs Cho’s pay?” Sungyeol answered sarcastically, setting his cup down safely on the floor. “And why, what’s the big deal? What did you save my name as?”

“Guess,” Myungsoo said, eyes twinkling. “Or you tell me what my name in your phone is first.”

“…Um.” Sungyeol cleared his throat. “Of course it’s just ‘Myungsoo’, what else would it be?”

“Oh.” Myungsoo swung his feet lightly, letting them hit the bed with soft thuds.

Silence. Myungsoo had slipped his phone out of his pants pocket and was fiddling with it. Sungyeol contemplated suicide by coffee.

Sungyeol’s phone rang.

Myungsoo dove for Sungyeol’s back pocket the same moment Sungyeol clamped a hand on his left butt cheek and threw himself backwards on the mattress.

“What are you hiding!” Myungsoo crowed as he tried to wrench Sungyeol onto his front, the two of them instantly giggling madly over the insistent ringing of Sungyeol’s phone.

“No!” Sungyeol gasped, holding on for dear life to the seat of his jeans and trying to kick Myungsoo off the bed. “Get away from me!”

Myungsoo changed tactics – he attacked Sungyeol’s unbruised side, tickling as hard as he could to draw Sungyeol’s hands away from protecting his phone as Sungyeol broke out in desperate barks of laughter. “Stopstopstop _stopstopstopstop_ -”

He brought one arm away from his butt to grab Myungsoo’s wrist, and pulled it away at a right angle – Myungsoo overbalanced and fell directly forward, the tenderest parts of his anatomy connecting quite abruptly with one of Sungyeol’s drawn-up knees.

The face he made as he keeled over and curled up into a ball next to Sungyeol was more than Sungyeol could take. Sungyeol got up to see what he could do to help him but fell weakly in a heap half on top of Myungsoo, laughing till his stomach began to hurt.

“You bastard,” Myungsoo ground out, hands gingerly cupping his balls and curled up like a prawn.

“Myungsoo – are you – are you _crying_?” Sungyeol broke out in fresh laughter, having to support himself with a hand beside Myungsoo’s head to stay upright. “Oh my god, this is too funny.”

“I am _not_ crying,” Myungsoo answered hotly, furiously blinking away tears. Sungyeol helped him to roll slowly onto his back, the pain in his groin subsiding by tiny degrees as he tried to breathe evenly. Myungsoo sneaked a sad look at Sungyeol’s unguarded back pocket, phone now silent. He knew by the way Sungyeol had blanched when he’d suggested telling him what name Sungyeol had him under in Sungyeol’s phone that it wasn’t something Sungyeol wanted him to see. A different sort of heat from the white pain between his legs began to spread in his chest. _It had to be good, right?_

“Don’t get weird on me after this,” Sungyeol was saying, from above Myungsoo.

“Huh?”

“Don’t get weird. Don’t get awkward, or ignore me. Don’t close up.”

“Okay,” Myungsoo agreed, but words were nothing to him now. He was looking at Sungyeol’s smiling mouth, kind of glad that that smile was for him. Kind of really, fucking glad, and that was almost enough to keep the panic that was rising at bay.

Almost.

*


	7. Chapter 7

“Hello? Yoora?” Mr Kim sat down on the sofa in the lobby, Min having disappeared somewhere to give him some privacy.

“Oh? Hyunjun? Is everything okay?” Her voice on the line was worried. Mr Kim could hear chatter in the background that sounded like the normal sounds offices made, and then the click of a door before the noises faded. “Is Myungsoo alright?”

“He’s fine. I know we just spoke the other day, but there’s something I need to talk to you about. It’s serious. Do you have time?”

“Yes, I have a few minutes, but – do you need me to come down? What is this about?” she laughed shortly. “You’re scaring me a bit, Hyunjun-ah.”

Mr Kim took in a deep breath, marshalling his thoughts. “It’s about… you remember Maggie? The ghost I told you about that haunts the hotel now?”

Silence on the other end. Then, “Yes?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you knew her when she was alive?”

More silence.

“Yoora?” He could hear her breathing softly on the line. “I just really need to know whatever you can tell me happened that day. Things… things have been going on here that we don’t really understand... and we think she’s trying to tell us something.”

“What things?” Yoora whispered.

“Violent things, Yoora. Things she’s never done before. One of my employees even got hurt. She gave- she gave Myungsoo some sort of vision, and-” Mr Kim ran a hand over his face. “I know this sounds insane. I do. But it seems like she’s trying to lead us to her killer or something. None of us can find anything beyond what was published in the papers… and then we found out you had been friends.”

Yoora didn’t answer straight away, and Mr Kim forced himself to be patient. “Hyunjun-ah… I think I should come down there.”

Mr Kim watched Sungyeol climb carefully up the stairs balancing two cups of coffee, and remembered the way Myungsoo had walked off up those same stairs ten minutes ago.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” He replied, not wanting to be unkind but not wanting to lie either. “He’s still very angry at you.”

“I won’t – I won’t try to see him,” Yoora answered quickly. “We can just meet, the two of us. And I’ll tell you everything.”

Mr Kim sighed, and then made arrangements to meet the wife he hadn’t seen in sixteen years. 

*

Myungsoo looked up at Sungyeol smiling down at him, his ready agreement not to pull away again already tasting false on his lips. Something had undeniably changed between them and they both knew it – the tension in the air and the electricity in skin on skin couldn’t lie. Sungyeol was looking at him like there was nothing else in the world but him and Myungsoo just wanted to get up and run as far as he could away from Sungyeol and this room.

Or they could just fuck and get it out of their systems.

Myungsoo reached up and gently folded his fist into Sungyeol’s shirt, tugging him down closer. Sungyeol pulled back after a second, his eyes huge and searching Myungsoo’s face, so Myungsoo made up the rest of the distance.

He propped himself up on his elbows and kissed Sungyeol, the little gasp leaving Sungyeol’s mouth as Myungsoo’s lips touched his feeling like a punch to the gut. Sungyeol tasted like coffee – they both tasted like coffee, obviously – and his nose gently brushed Myungsoo’s as Myungsoo parted his lips against Sungyeol’s.

He kissed Sungyeol’s soft mouth and breathed in gulps of Sungyeol’s scent, Sungyeol having gone absolutely still and almost trembling with the strain of not moving a single inch. He tentatively began to kiss back when Myungsoo slid the hand fisted in his shirt up to cradle his head, Sungyeol’s silky hair trickling through his fingers. Sungyeol smiled into the kiss, a breathless laugh escaping him as though he could finally believe what was happening. _Tomorrow everything will be back to normal_ , Myungsoo told himself, over and over.

He pulled Sungyeol down further on top of him, the feel of Sungyeol’s weight and legs tangling with his making his blood race. He deepened the kiss, sucking Sungyeol’s bottom lip into his mouth and biting lightly, doing it again at the small whimper it earned from Sungyeol. Sungyeol shifted on his side so that he could run a hand over Myungsoo’s body, cupping his face and trailing fingers down his arm and waist, the heat from Myungsoo’s skin and firmness of his body against his own so new it was overwhelming. Myungsoo had snuck a hand under Sungyeol’s shirt, and the first touch of his warm palm on Sungyeol’s bare back made Sungyeol gasp into Myungsoo’s mouth. He was so reactive to everything, so sensitive to Myungsoo’s touch that every caress and kiss was delicious in its power to evoke new sounds and reactions from Sungyeol. Myungsoo rested his hand on Sungyeol’s hip, smoothing irregular shapes with his thumb into Sungyeol’s skin as he moved closer. This time it was Sungyeol’s hand fisted in Myungsoo’s shirt, his erection pressing painfully against Myungsoo’s thigh as Myungsoo rolled them over to feel Sungyeol under him. Big hotel beds were the best.

Sungyeol had his eyes closed tight, either from embarrassment at being caught so hard just from kissing or because he wasn’t entirely sure all this was really happening, and so Myungsoo took the opportunity to look at him a while as his hands explored under Sungyeol’s shirt. His head was turned to the side, full lips parted; brown hair fanning over his forehead and the sheet, the long line of his neck exposed and disappearing into delicate collarbones. Myungsoo drew back the hand that was spread over Sungyeol’s stomach to run a finger down Sungyeol’s cheek and lightly over his mouth, the action making Sungyeol open his eyes and lift them to Myungsoo’s. What he saw there made Myungsoo hate himself.

He couldn’t do it.

Myungsoo drew back, instantly jittery and heart starting to pound. “Sungyeol, you should go. I’m sorry – I can’t. You should go.”

Sungyeol sat up, confusion all too clear on his face. “What?” He scooted closer, trying to take Myungsoo’s face in his hands. “What’s wrong?”

Myungsoo jerked backwards out of Sungyeol’s reach. “Just _go_ , okay?”

Sungyeol looked like he’d been slapped. “What the fuck, Myungsoo?”

Myungsoo got off the bed, putting as much distance between them as the room allowed.

“Please just get out of my room.” Myungsoo refused to look at Sungyeol, who had been shocked motionless for the moment. He got off the bed in small, sharp movements, his eyes boring holes into Myungsoo. “Did I do something wrong?”

Myungsoo latched onto the ready excuse given, hating himself for it. “Yeah. It’s you. I thought I liked you enough, but that wasn’t the case. Sorry.”

Sungyeol nodded slowly as it sunk in, eyes blank as his hands worried the hem of his shirt.

“Sorry, Sungyeol. Sorry.”

Sungyeol walked quietly to the door and opened it, letting himself out. The sound of the door closing was too loud in Myungsoo’s ears.

*

Sungyeol walked down the stairs and right through the lobby, stopping only to grab his coat and bag.

“Sungyeol? Mr Kim already – Sungyeol!” Min called after him, taken aback at the way he’d ignored her and walked stiffly out of the hotel, foreboding rising in her throat. _Oh, fuck. Oh god, what did I just do._ She quickly turned to watch the stairs, hoping that the next thing she saw would be Myungsoo coming after Sungyeol, because at least that would mean there was still some hope for something, anything, but the stairs remained empty.

“ _Shit_.” She closed the register with a slam and grabbed the first coat she laid hands on, not caring whether it was actually hers, and ran out into the street after Sungyeol. She chased him down, his brown head bowed as he walked along rapidly down towards his bus stop. “Lee Sungyeol, stop!” He kept walking.

She grabbed his arm and pulled with all her might, secretly scared that he would just wrench her off without a look back. She had never seen him like this.

“What are you doing – put on your coat!” she fussed with relief when he stopped, head still bowed and eyes on the ground. She manhandled him into the coat and buttoned it tight around him, one or two passersby giving them curious looks. “Sungyeol, what on earth are you-”

He blinked quickly and angrily dashed away the tear that was running down his cheek. “Leave me alone, Min,” he said, trying to start walking again. “I’ll come back tonight, okay? You can tell Mr Kim I’ll do the night shift for him-”

“Baby, baby, what happened?” Min thumbed away the wetness on his cheeks, her heart sinking. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry if I – I should never have made you go, please don’t cry-”

“He doesn’t want me, Min,” Sungyeol whispered, eyes filling again as he squeezed them shut in frustration. “I’ll be okay – I’m just being an idiot right now but I’ll be okay.”

He gently but firmly removed her hands from his face and walked away.

*

Myungsoo tried to steady his breathing. He had royally fucked things up and ruined a friendship, but he’d gotten what he wanted: no complications. Now all he had to do was avoid Sungyeol for the rest of his life.

He sat down at his desk and tried to work.

*

Mr Kim took a seat in the bustling coffeeshop, inside as warm as the outside was cold. The gorgeous smell of bread suffused the air and he accepted the menu from a waitress eagerly. He loved croissants. It would be a good idea to meet the woman who’d broken his heart sixteen years ago on a full stomach, anyway. His chocolate croissant and latte came quickly, and he was in the act of brushing the last crumbs from his mouth when she walked in.

Mr Kim smiled. She’d always been beautiful.

He stood when she approached and she hugged him briefly, still rather self-conscious despite how far they’d managed to come after all these years. They were still married, after all; and marriage was never straightforward.

She settled down across from him and he offered her the menu, nudging her arm with it. Her eyes lit up. “I’ve already ordered your apple tart,” he told her as she opened it, and she broke into a wide smile. “You remember,” she said simply, and he nodded.

She asked a waiter for a hot tea, and then turned to face him. “You may not want to ever see me again after you hear what I have to say,” she said wryly, trying to laugh it off. “There’s things I’ve never told you before.”

“That much is obvious,” he scoffed at her. “I must have told you a thousand times about Maggie and you never let on you knew anything about her, let alone knew her when she was alive. But I suppose I’m about to find out why,” he raised an eyebrow, serious now.

Yoora sighed.

“Maggie and I met in high school,” she began, tracing the pattern on her teacup. “We were best friends, I guess. It was one of those schools where everyone was always competing for attention and who was most popular and Maggie didn’t fit into any of that. She didn’t want the attention, probably, and she never bothered. And I…”

“You were the most popular girl in school,” Mr Kim finished for her. Yoora looked away.

“You could say that. It was stupid. But she was always there for me even though I knew she was jealous sometimes. She didn’t like to show it and it always made me feel horrible, so I’d try to make it up to her. It came to a point where I felt like being her friend meant feeling bad about being myself, all the time.” Yoora sipped her tea.

“Obviously, she was the one who had the harder time but I just started wondering why on earth I was friends with her. If a boy asked me out, I felt bad. If a dress looked better on me than her, I felt bad. If I got invited to a party, I felt bad. It wasn’t even her fault.

Anyway. My mother got a free stay at your hotel that night, the night I met you. She was still my best friend, after all, so I brought her along and we had fun. But the moment you came over to our table at dinner she had that look on her face again and I thought, just-”

Yoora leaned her elbows on the table, rubbing her brow. “I still can’t believe I did that. I left her in the hotel to go dancing with you, because I felt somehow wronged by her. Like, ‘why can’t you let me be prettier than you and more popular than you and just accept it’?” Yoora laughed bitterly. “I was such a bitch to her.”

Her apple tart arrived, and they both stared at it. “Go on?” Mr Kim asked, poking her elbow gently with his finger. She shrugged.

“And then I got back a few hours later and she wasn’t in the room. She’d written a note – “gone out with guy from room 307” – that’s all. So I thought I’d wait, but when morning came and she still wasn’t back I went to 307. When I got there the staff were already cleaning it. He’d checked out during the night.

“I _know_ it’s him, Hyunjun,” Yoora said, leaning forward and suddenly intense. “I know it. Don’t ask me how. But I know he’s the one. They couldn’t find anything to pin on him but he did it. I know it,” she repeated. “I can’t believe how they couldn’t find anything at all – I mean, evidence on her body-” she broke off, looking like she was fighting back tears.

“I couldn’t take working in that hotel with you,” she finally said, beginning to cry in earnest. She grabbed a napkin and pressed it to her eyes, the embarrassment of crying in public making her flush. “Every time I had to go into 307 I felt like I wanted to die and after a while every time I looked at you – she is dead now because of me, Hyunjun. Because I was too conceited and selfish and I could never tell you because you’d hate me even more.”

Mr Kim got up and moved around to her, knowing people were staring but not really bothering. He held her as she cried, things that should have been said years ago finally out in the open and now that they were, the tears wouldn’t stop. He grit his teeth and wondered for the thousandth time why things had turned out this way, knowing that there would never be an answer.

She finally managed to calm herself, pushing at Mr Kim’s arms around her in humiliation. “I’m so sorry to do this to you here,” she said, wiping her nose. “But… but it feels good to finally tell you.”

“You should have told me from the start,” he said wearily.

She looked at him sadly, and shrugged.

*

Myungsoo stared unseeing at the papers on his table.

* 

Sungyeol rolled over in bed, bundled up in his blanket. He couldn’t sleep; his apartment was too quiet.

*

Min took out her phone, debating whether to call or not.

*

Maggie watched Myungsoo from a corner of the room, the first time she’d been around and he hadn’t noticed her.

*

Han Seunghoon flicked open the newspaper, relaxing behind his desk at the town municipal office. They had received so many applications for the Christmas decoration competition – good. It was nice to see people getting into the spirit of the season. He supposed, as chair of this event his first year since he’d retired from law that it meant he was going places; perhaps even towards a political career? He smiled, satisfied. He was really looking forward to the judging, now only ten days away.

*


	8. Chapter 8

“Do you have any new photos of Myungsoo to show me?” Yoora asked, tears safely tucked away and smile watery but back on. A waiter quietly cleared away the debris of their meal, and Yoora ordered another hot tea. “Sometimes I can’t believe he’s grown up so handsome.”

Mr Kim smiled back. “That’s your genes. Goodlooking and a terrible temper, though I could do without the bad temper part. And no, he hasn’t updated his Facebook with any photos lately.”

“And does his Facebook status still say ‘single’?” Yoora nudged Mr Kim’s shin with her foot, smiling wider. “He must have girls falling over him left and right. I don’t understand why he hasn’t brought anyone home to you yet. You’ll tell me, right, if he ever introduces a girlfriend to you? You promised.”

Mr Kim made a face. “Honestly, I don’t know what he’s doing. I mean, sometimes he brings a – a, _lady friend_ to the hotel, but never home – what?”

Yoora covered her mouth, trying to stop laughing. “A _lady friend_? Hyungjun, he’s an adult and so are we. How can you still be such a prude about these things at your age?”

Ignoring her, Mr Kim went on. “He’s never introduced anyone specially to me though. He plays everything so close to the chest, that boy.”

“Well, he’s still young,” she smiled fondly. “Maybe he’s still looking for Miss Right.

“I know I’d worry less if he’d just hurry up and find her,” Mr Kim grumbled, the both of them more than aware of the irony of two married people who hadn’t seen each other in nearly two decades speculating over their son’s romantic future as if it were a simple matter of finding _the right one_ , if such a thing even existed. Yet they smiled at each other and pretended that that was all that mattered, as if life never got in the way, and that love was all anyone ever needed.

*

Myungsoo turned over in bed, the sunlight filtering through the curtains telling him it was rather later than he’d wanted to wake up. He hadn’t gone home in two days, sneaking out the back way to get something to eat and avoiding the lobby like the plague because he wasn’t sure what Sungyeol’s shifts were and the last thing he wanted right now was to bump into him by accident.

 _This bed._ He knew it. He knew what would happen if he let Sungyeol closer than he should – and true enough, this bed was no longer just his. It had welcomed Sungyeol’s weight on top of Myungsoo as they’d kissed, it had moulded to the shape of Sungyeol’s body as he lay tangled underneath Myungsoo and it would never feel adequate with only Myungsoo in it anymore.

Myungsoo ran a suddenly-tired hand over his face and snorted at himself. He didn’t even like boys, _but lo and behold_ , he thought sarcastically.

He hadn’t expected kissing Sungyeol to be very much different from kissing a girl, but the lack of breasts and finding lean planes where he was used to soft curves had thrown him a bit at first. But then Sungyeol’s soft lips and hair and skin and the way he smelled and the fucking sounds he had made and it was _Sungyeol_ - 

Myungsoo slapped himself, the smack echoing sounding sharp in the silence of his room. It had been strange and new, but it had also been _good_ ; but whatever it had been he didn’t need to be thinking about it right now. He didn’t need to be in love with anyone, much less a guy. _Even if_ Sungyeol’s guyness was somehow magically overthrown by the way he smiled with his whole face and how he was so free with everyone, Myungsoo’s father and Min and even the grumpy cook; how he loved coffee like it was a living person; how hard he worked and how much he cared about the hotel even though anybody in their right mind would have walked out the very first day they’d discovered the place was haunted.

 _Especially if_ Sungyeol made Myungsoo want to be around him all the time doing stupid things like helping him to fold bedsheets and vacuuming carpets just so they could be doing it together and how overhearing Sungyeol talk to his mother on the phone made his heart ache and how simple touches were enough to make his pulse race.

Too late.

*

They were all at a dead end. They knew what the thuds had meant, they knew how Maggie had died and when, they knew the killer was the man who’d stayed in 307. The only thing now was to figure out who the man was, and what connection he had to the competition. This was a task easier said than done, the four of them staring blankly at the fourteen boxes labeled ‘Customer report list 1980’.

“I don’t know what’s more amazing, that you kept all these records from more than twenty years ago, or that we’re all going to willingly go through each of these boxes until we find who stayed in 307 that night,” Myungsoo said to Mr Kim, shaking his head. “Please god, let them be in chronological order!”

Normally, the rare occurrence of Myungsoo’s effusiveness would be eagerly followed by either a quip or a laugh from either Min or Sungyeol, but this time it was met with stony silence. Min dragged a box toward her and began to open it with her penknife, savagely ripping through the masking tape without preamble. Myungsoo edged away from her, trying not to look over at Sungyeol now selecting his own box. Sungyeol worked calmly and quietly, slicing away at the masking tape with measured strokes and carefully pushing back the box’s flaps. To look at him you wouldn’t think anything at all in the world was wrong, and Myungsoo was both glad and upset that this was so.

An hour turned into two, and two turned into three. The reports were not, sadly, chronological.

Myungsoo squeezed his eyes shut, opening them wide and blinking owlishly. Words were beginning to blur into squiggly lines and Myungsoo half-feared he may have already missed the right dated report, accidentally putting it aside with the growing pile of reports beside him. A phone rang and Min went to answer it. Mr Kim stood up to stretch. A year passed, or it may have been half an hour.

Suddenly Sungyeol cried out and jumped to his feet, penknife clattering to the floor and holding his left hand out away from his body. Myungsoo got to his feet and made his way over to Sungyeol, only to have Min block him with a firm push to the middle of his chest. Without looking at Myungsoo, she prodded Sungyeol in the direction of the bathrooms, Mr Kim calling out his concern behind them. “Just a small cut, don’t worry!” Sungyeol smiled over his shoulder, happening to catch Myungsoo’s eye for a second before he looked away.

Myungsoo stood awkwardly where he’d been stopped in his tracks by Min, feeling like he’d been flat-out punched instead. Min hadn’t bothered to be gentle.

He looked over at Mr Kim, who hadn’t noticed anything and had continued to rifle through reports. Myungsoo had no idea what to do or how to react, so he mutely went back to his box and sat down again. Why did he feel so ashamed?

 _Because she knows what you did,_ his conscience supplied. _That much is obvious._ Myungsoo kept his eyes on his reports when Min and Sungyeol returned from the bathroom, Sungyeol’s finger wrapped in a makeshift toilet paper bandage. 

“Found it,” Mr Kim said wearily approximately fifteen minutes later. He crawled towards the other three and slid the paper towards them, crowding together on the floor to read the guest register for April 19th, 1980. They scanned it quickly, coming to a halt at the ninth line.

**Room 307 – Mr Han Seunghoon, checked in 3.20 p.m. Checked out 4.52 a.m April 20 th. Paid in cash, full.**

Sungyeol sat back, exhaling. “So it _was_ him.”

“But-” Min got to her knees, gesturing frustratedly. “What can we do? What does _she_ want us to do? He already got arrested once for this and got off scott-free. How are we supposed to fix this? It makes no difference to the police if we’ve got no evidence.”

Mr Kim was mouthing the name ‘Han Seunghoon’ to himself over and over, wrinkles deepening in thought.

“A little help here would be nice, Maggie,” Sungyeol said to the empty lobby, tiredness clear in his voice. He leaned against Min, who absently started kneading his shoulder to remove the tension in it.

A slow unwanted burn started in Myungsoo’s stomach. They were just friends. He knew it. Sungyeol liked _him_.

No answer from Maggie and a general feeling of helplessness and futility caused them to dump the reports back into the boxes haphazardly, shoving them back into the basement as if the boxes themselves were at fault for their lack of answers.

*

“Myungsoo?”

Myungsoo turned around, stopping to let his father catch up with him at the top of the stairs. Mr Kim smiled apologetically, panting a bit. “Your father’s getting old.”

Myungsoo clapped his father on the back, grinning slightly in answer. They walked together into Myungsoo’s office, his father dropping into the armchair as Myungsoo sat Indian-style on the bed. “What’s up, appa?” Myungsoo said with a chirpiness he did not feel.

“I spoke with your mother, Myungsoo,” Mr Kim began.

“Yeah, I know, you told us,” Myungsoo replied absentmindedly. _This bed_. He got off it to take the desk chair instead, dragging it to face his father.

“Face to face."

Myungsoo sat back in his chair, surprised into attentiveness. “But – you haven’t seen her since-?”

Mr Kim nodded calmly. “First time since the separation, yes.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“She thought it was best. I don’t think she wanted to tell me everything over the phone, her information being what it was. I didn’t really tell the others the whole story, Myungsoo. I said that she’d gone dancing with me and when she’d got back she found the note, but Han Seunghoon had left by the time she checked his room. But that… wasn’t all she told me, Myungsoo.”

Myungsoo frowned. “Why keep it from the other two? What did she say?”

Mr Kim leaned forward, earnest. “Because the rest had nothing to do with them. She told me why she left, Myungsoo.”

Myungsoo got up from his chair, the restless urge to move sudden and overwhelming as if he could delay the news with the distance he was putting between himself and his father. It was the question he’d pondered since he was five – Myungsoo scoffed at himself – why did his mother leave? Now that it looked like it was finally going to be answered, he wasn’t exactly certain he wanted to know anymore.

“So?” The word came out terse and low.

“You have to understand that your mother was very young when she was friends with Maggie. She was perhaps a bit too self-centred, too immature. She wasn’t much older than you are right now.”

“Are you calling me self-centred and immature?” Myungsoo asked inconsequentially, ignoring the resounding _yes_ bouncing around in his skull.

“I’m talking about your mother. She thought Maggie was being too jealous of her, and that was a big part of why she left Maggie in the hotel alone to go dancing with me that night. And when she got back, Maggie was gone. A few days later she finds out her best friend has been killed by someone she met while your mother was with me – don’t you see?”

Myungsoo turned to look at his father. “No, I don’t.”

“What if she’d stayed? What if she hadn’t gone dancing with me? What if Maggie hadn’t been alone when the man from 307 had approached her?”

 

_The front door tinkled as Mr Kim hurried in, coming up short as he spied Maggie and his son, side by side on the sofa. He fidgeted, not sure how to react beyond a mumbled hello to the both of them._

_“Scrawny boy with glasses,” Maggie repeated, looking at Mr Kim. “Why did she get to marry, and have a son? Why not me?”_

 

The scene rose unbidden in Myungsoo’s mind, and he pushed it away forcefully, feeling the familiar anger blaze to life within him. “No. She doesn’t get to try to play the victim here, okay? What does she expect me to say, ‘oh, poor mother, you felt guilty your friend died because you decided to go out dancing so you _left us_ , it’s okay I forgive you now’? That’s bullshit!”

Mr Kim closed his eyes briefly. “She didn’t know what consequences her actions would bring, Myungsoo. The old have the curse of being able to look back on their lives and go through all the should haves and could haves at every point possible. She had to live with the knowledge that her decisions inadvertently caused the death of her best friend, and the killer wasn’t even brought to justice, Myungsoo. It happened here in this hotel, and she went out with _me_ that night. Can’t you find it in yourself to see how hard it must have been for her to have to work here, and-”

“To be married to you?” Myungsoo bit out, watching the pain flash across his father’s face and not feeling sorry. “I don’t understand you at all. She can make any excuse and you’d believe it.”

“I love her, Myungsoo,” Mr Kim rose from his seat, reddening. “Maybe you should try it sometime, loving someone that much.”

Myungsoo watched his father move to the door and leave.

“No,” Myungsoo murmured to the empty room once the door had swung shut on its own. “I don’t ever want to end up like you.”

*


	9. Chapter 9

“Mr Kim, this is where you’ve seen the name recently,” Sungyeol said, holding up his phone to Mr Kim’s line of sight. Mr Kim squinted at the phone, its internet screen showing the poster for the competition Myungsoo had brought to them last week. He looked through the poster, wondering what Sungyeol meant, and his gaze snagged with shock on the name of the judges.  

_Han Seunghoon, municipal town office head judge_

Mr Kim gasped, Sungyeol nodding. “That’s the key to this whole thing. What are we going to do?”

“That bastard is not stepping foot in my hotel again,” Mr Kim declared, shaking his head, as it was Sungyeol’s turn to give a tiny gasp at his normally harmless boss’ language. He grinned internally.

“I’d usually agree with you, but let’s think about this a minute,” Sungyeol said slowly, slipping an arm through Mr Kim’s and leading him to sit on the sofa. “What if this was our chance to finally get him?”

“I don’t see how we can. We don’t have any evidence,” Mr Kim echoed their thoughts of the day before.

“No,” Sungyeol said, grinning openly now. “But we have _Maggie_.”

*

It was eight days to the competition. The four of them busied themselves with decorating the hotel using whatever they already had and scrounging what they could from their own homes, resulting in rather mismatched decorations throughout the building ( _“It’s… endearing, I suppose,” Min had said, skeptically appraising a corridor lined with purple and green party streamers_ ). Myungsoo had been given the task of trying to talk to Maggie about their plans for the upcoming competition but she was staying stubbornly silent. 

“Maggie. _Maggie_. MaggieMaggieMaggieMaggie.” Myungsoo called repeatedly, getting rather tired of the whole thing. “Can I just write down whatever we want to say to her with a big ‘TO MAGGIE’ at the top on a big piece of paper and leave it in strategic places around the hotel?” 

He looked up at Sungyeol behind the reception counter, hoping for a reaction. Sungyeol shrugged, non-committal. “You should go talk to your father first and worry about Maggie later,” he said shortly and left for the kitchen.

Myungsoo punched a sofa cushion. Sungyeol wasn’t ignoring him outright like Min was, but he was treating Myungsoo like he was a stupid child that needed to be only tolerated, never fully engaged. Myungsoo _knew_ it was his fault, but that didn’t help him feel any better. He wasn’t sure he deserved to feel better in the first place, but he wanted to, anyway. This back and forth and his own lack of resolve was killing him. What was the point of wanting Sungyeol’s attention when he’d made up his mind that the less time they spent together, the better?

He missed Sungyeol. He never realized how much he enjoyed talking to and being teased by Sungyeol until the other had cut him off, and it was all becoming a bit too hard to bear. And his father – Sungyeol was right. As usual.

He followed Sungyeol into the kitchen and found him reading through the stock inventory for the week.

“Why do you say I need to talk to my father?” 

“Like you don’t know,” Sungyeol answered under his breath. “He’s upset. Only one person in this hotel can manage to make him that upset. I’m guessing you know why.”

Myungsoo rubbed a little at the metal workstation he was leaning against with his finger, Sungyeol’s annoyed tone adding to Myungsoo’s dark raincloud of regret.

“He met up with my mother the other day. He didn’t just speak to her on the phone,” Myungsoo said, wondering why he was continuing to talk when Sungyeol obviously didn’t want him there. But he needed to tell someone about this, and he wanted to make Sungyeol stay in the same place as him for more than two minutes without walking off.

Sungyeol didn’t answer, his back facing him, so he went on. “He told me he still loved her. He tried to explain that she’d left because she felt too guilty about what had happened to Maggie, like she thought it was her fault. And that somehow that made it okay for her to leave us, because she couldn’t deal with all of it.” Myungsoo exhaled. “He never even fought for her, you know, when she left. He just… accepted it and let her go. I never understood why.”

“Maybe he thought it was something he’d done,” Sungyeol replied, turning a page in the inventory file. “Maybe your mother gave him some bullshit excuse, and he believed it.” 

Myungsoo opened his mouth to answer, and stopped, stung. What exactly did Sungyeol mean? _Who_ exactly was he talking about? “I-” he stuttered, his mind racing. 

“It still doesn’t explain how she could just leave us like that,” he finally found his tongue. “How can anyone be that selfish?”

Sungyeol turned around, file hugged to his chest. “You should know,” he answered smoothly, walking out to leave Myungsoo standing dumbfounded in the kitchen.

*

Myungsoo, still smarting from Sungyeol’s parting shot, found his father cleaning out a room on the second floor. His immediate reaction had been to balk at Sungyeol’s suggestion, because if he capitulated it meant that it was true – he was being just as selfish as his mother – and he didn’t want to explore all the implications of that fact. He was nothing like his mother, had decided so a long time ago; but Sungyeol telling him that his father was upset pricked both his conscience and his pride. He didn’t want to accept that Sungyeol was probably a better son than he was and at the moment he had a particular urge to prove Sungyeol wrong in all aspects.

His father had opened the windows to help air the room, and the icy wind creeping in made Myungsoo shiver a bit as he quietly walked up behind Mr Kim and put his arms around him. Mr Kim started, then relaxed in Myungsoo’s arms, sighing slightly. “What is it, Myungsoo?”

“I’m sorry, appa.” His voice came out smaller and more childlike than he liked.

“That’s what you always say when we fight about your mother, after you’ve already let your temper run around freely,” his father replied, carrying on smoothing down the bedspread with Myungsoo still clinging to his back like a baby koala.

“I’m really sorry this time,” Myungsoo repeated, mumbling into his father’s sweater. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you.”

Mr Kim stood up straight and peeled Myungsoo off him. “I’m worried about you. I know there’s a lot you cannot accept about her, but carrying this much anger around in you for so long cannot be healthy.” He stroked his son’s hair. “I mean, I know that you were too young when it happened for you to have been able to work through it all, and I never really helped you talk about any of it…” he stopped uncertainly. 

“Maybe you should sign me up for therapy,” Myungsoo smiled a lopsided smile at his father. 

“Maybe you should just talk to her,” his father replied simply. “She loves you, Myungsoo, no matter what you may think. She always asks me about you. Her phone wallpaper is your picture.”

“If she loves me so much why didn’t she ever come back?” Myungsoo asked the curtains, not wanting to look at his father for fear of the tears that were suddenly threatening to fall. “And,” he continued, taking a deep breath. “How did she get a picture of me? What do you mean always asks about me?”

“We’ve been in touch,” his father began plumping up the pillows, throwing him one. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you wouldn’t like it. It’s taken a long time to get where we are today, but I figured it was either be angry and hurt all my life or try to fix things as much as I could.”

“How are you so _good_?” Myungsoo asked irritably, arranging his pillow back on the bed neatly. All the things that his father must have wanted to tell him and talk about but couldn’t, knowing what his reaction would be – he really had been selfish.

“Born like that, I suppose. And I told you, I love her,” Mr Kim answered, shrugging. “No matter what, it’s always been her. She has her flaws, of course – always a bit too self-centred, always a bit too cowardly, but you love someone despite all of that. I’m quite sure she still feels the same way about me, too.”

Myungsoo watched his father, somewhat in awe. “This hasn’t been easy for you, has it, appa? I haven’t- I haven’t been very fair to you.”

Mr Kim paused in the middle of putting on rubber washing-up gloves. “Having to deal with all of this and single-handedly raise a sulky spoiled kid like you? Of course not. But I managed.” Myungsoo threatened to spray cleaning detergent at his father, who laughed it off and passed Myungsoo another set of rubber gloves. They began to scrub the bathtub, working quietly together. 

“Was it at least – was it hard for her to leave?” he asked in a soft voice a few minutes later, having wondered how to phrase this question almost all his life.

“You have no idea, Myungsoo,” came the answer, his father seemingly concentrating on his scrubbing. 

Myungsoo moved on to the sink, a little part of his chest he didn’t know was frozen melting away.

*

“So much for my mistletoe,” Min complained, pouting up at the green sprig hanging from the lobby doorway. 

Sungyeol laughed at her, a pang in his heart. “I’m so sorry my love life has disappointed you. Do you want a kiss from me instead?” 

“Why on earth would I want that?” she answered scornfully, still looking up at the mistletoe. Sungyeol stood and crept up to her, glad that amidst everything he still had this safe Min-shaped space to smile and laugh in. “Because you love me?”

“In your dreamsmmmff!” Sungyeol had grabbed her and puckered up, trying to plant one on her. Min struggled like a wild thing and tried to push his face away, squashing his nose in the process.

“Oh! I didn’t know you two were…” Mr Kim said delightedly upon seeing them, just that moment coming down the stairs with Myungsoo. “I’m so happy for you!”

Min stopped struggling in Sungyeol’s arms at their boss’ voice, instantly mortified at being found in that situation. “Mr Kim, no! It’s not-”  

Sungyeol made a sad face. “I love her, Mr Kim, but she won’t have me.”

“ _Minkyung_ ,” Mr Kim scolded. “Sungyeol’s such a nice boy, why wouldn’t you want him?”

“ _Mr Kim!_ ” Min cried, hitting Sungyeol in sheer embarrassment. “He’s making it up!”

Sungyeol laughed finally, dropping the pretense. “We were just fooling around, Mr Kim. Nothing’s going on.” Min hit him again for good measure. 

Sungyeol sat on an arm of the sofa, refusing to look back at Myungsoo whose eyes were boring holes through him. “Everything’s done. All the decorations are up.”

“Now we wait, I guess.” Mr Kim nodded. “Myungsoo, you still haven’t contacted Maggie?”

“…What?” Myungsoo tore his gaze from Sungyeol to find his father looking at him expectantly. “Oh. No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“I wonder why,” Min said quietly before being instantly glared at by Sungyeol. Myungsoo reddened. 

“Yes, I wonder why,” Mr Kim asked, oblivious to what was really going on. “She likes Myungsoo so much it’s weird she isn’t responding at all. Just keep trying, alright?”

Myungsoo mumbled his assent, feeling emotionally wrung out by that point. His eternal mother issues, Sungyeol’s distance, the Maggie problem, Min’s newfound dislike for him – it was too much for one person to take in all at once, nevermind that he was actively prolonging his own conflicts. And he found himself being dragged into the kitchen by Min - _what now?_

“You stare at him a lot,” she stated, ignoring the cook’s frown at the both of them. Myungsoo fidgeted in the small space, feeling his manhood wither under Min’s fierce glare. 

“Min, what-” Sungyeol appeared in the doorway only to have Min close and lock the door in his face. “Hey-!” 

“What’s your game, Myungsoo?” she turned back to him. “Why are you acting like a jealous boyfriend?”

Myungsoo opened and shut his mouth a few times. “I am _not_ -”

Min rolled her eyes. “You know, I already thought you were a complete asshole for what you did to him, but this just takes the cake. You liked the attention he gave you, didn’t you? And now that he’s backed off you miss it, so you watch him and try to talk to him and try to make him coffee-”

“You don’t know me,” Myungsoo said hotly, her words hitting too close to home. “You don’t know what I’m going through-”

Min stopped, the look on her face incredulous. “What you’re going through? What _you’re_ going through?”

Myungsoo shut his mouth at that. “I didn’t mean-”

“Listen here, asshole. You have no idea how much he liked you, okay? You really hurt him. I don’t know if you were just curious and decided at the last moment you didn’t like dick, but whatever you did, you fucked up. Big time. If you _ever_ want be friends with him again, you have some major making up to do. And even then I’m not sure he should forgive you.”

“I _know_ , okay, I know,” Myungsoo closed his eyes, partly to block out the sight of the tiny angry woman in front of him. “Min, please believe me when I say I didn’t mean to do any of it.”

“What, kiss him? Make out with him _in your bed_ -”

“Like him, okay? Like him!”

Myungsoo exhaled, the words now unable to be unsaid and both the cook and Min staring at him. 

“You _like_ him? Then what the fuck are you doing!” Min exclaimed, Myungsoo tamping down on the urge to cover her mouth with his hands to reduce her volume. 

“It’s not that simple, okay? And can we please talk somewhere else-”

“No. What, is it because he’s a guy? I get that, but-”

“Min, _why_ are you so nosy?”

“Because Sungyeol’s my baby,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and daring him to challenge her on that point. Myungsoo shrugged before gripping her upper arms earnestly. 

“You cannot tell him, do you understand? I mean it.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because it’s not going to work. I can’t be in a relationship with him, or whatever he may be expecting from me.”

 “ _Why?_ ”

“Argh, Min!” Myungsoo threw his hands up. “What’s the point? How many couples do you know stay together longer than a few months anymore? If all he wants from me is sex I’ll be more than glad to oblige, but-”

“I’m about to slap you in a minute,” Min warned.

“Go on then!” Myungsoo exploded. “Slap me! Kick me, do whatever you want! But don’t tell him. It’ll just hurt him more, and you know it.”

Myungsoo unlocked the door of the kitchen and went out into the lobby, Min hot on his heels. Sungyeol spun around at the sound of the door unlocking, chewing on a fingernail and looking anxious. “What’s going on?”

“I made a mistake in one of the account reports and she didn’t want to tell me off in front of my father,” Myungsoo said, giving Min a loaded look. “Where is he, by the way?”

“He’s gone home,” Sungyeol said, confused. “Min?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Min managed, clearly under a great strain to keep Myungsoo’s secret. “He’s still the boss’ son, anyway.”

“Right, so I’ll get on that right now,” Myungsoo said, heading for the stairs. “I’m sorry for the mistake I made.”

“Sure,” Min replied, sighing. She handed Sungyeol his coat, noting his shift was up. “Go home, kid.”

*


	10. Chapter 10

“I hate you,” Min said under her breath to Myungsoo, standing side by side as they welcomed a businessman looking for a place to sleep for the night, weary enough not to mind the rumours about this particular hotel. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me not to tell Sungyeol everything?”

“You’re the one who forced it out of me, so don’t complain,” he spoke out of the side of his mouth at her.

“He knows something’s up, he’s not dumb,” Min smiled at the man and bowed as he trudged away towards the elevator.

“Then it all hangs on your ability to act like everything’s normal, doesn’t it?” Myungsoo raised an eyebrow at her, tucking away the receipts of the sale.

“But _why_ -”

“Min, don’t start that again.”

“All you need is love!”

“This sounds vaguely familiar.”

“It’s from that scene in ‘Moulin Rouge’,” Min said, hurrying after Myungsoo as he rolled his eyes at her and walked away. “He was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving him!”

“If you dare start singing right now I’m going to throw you out into the street.”

“But I don’t understand! What’s so bad about giving it a shot? He’d make you happy, you know he would.”

Myungsoo stopped, sighing as he turned around to face her. “Don’t you get it? That’s the problem. We’d be happy for a while, and then once he gets tired of me or he starts liking someone else he’ll leave, and then my whole life would be over.”

Min was looking at him as if he was stupid. “Are you for real?”

Myungsoo just continued up the stairs, Min scrambling after him. “Wait. What about your other relationships? …I’m assuming there _were_ other relationships? I mean, you’re here all the time and all I’ve seen you have are one-night stands, but-”

Myungsoo glanced at her and carried on climbing.

“No _way_. No way, Kim Myungsoo. Are you telling me you’ve never been in a relationship with anyone?”

“Min, go away.”

“No. If you’ve never even been with anyone before how do you know you and Sungyeol will fail? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It makes sense! When have you ever heard of first relationships lasting forever?”

Min frowned at Myungsoo’s logic. “But most people have their first relationships when they’re in school! While they’re still growing up and changing! You’re twenty-one years old, Myungsoo, for god’s sake. And – wait, will you?”

Min grabbed on to his arm as they reached his room, his key already in his hand. “Aren’t you being a bit ridiculous, expecting relationships to last forever? I’m sure Sungyeol doesn’t expect that from you. If you try your best and you’re just not meant to be together then isn’t that enough?”

“Not for me.”

Myungsoo stepped across the threshold into his room, holding his door open to return Min’s gaze.

“So… what? You’re going to stay like this, forever? All your life, alone, because you’re scared of getting hurt?”

Myungsoo nodded happily, just to piss her off more.

“How do you know you won’t be the one to break up with Sungyeol, anyway?”

“Why would anyone ever want to break up with him?” Myungsoo answered after a beat, the question stumping him for a minute, and then quickly reddening at how much of himself he’d just given away.

Min clutched at her head, looking fit to burst and tear at her hair. “Oh my _god_ you are such an _idiot_ I want to _kill_ you!”

*

Min stomped down the staircase feeling like she was going to explode from frustration. Talking to Kim Myungsoo about this was like banging your head against a wall. She had to do something.

She flung herself into the chair behind the reception to at least look like she was doing work while in actual fact her mind was miles away. She needed something to make Myungsoo stop acting like such a colossal idiot and just take the plunge with Sungyeol – something that wouldn’t make Sungyeol suspicious and that would be effective enough so that Myungsoo wouldn’t retreat again once it was all over. But _what_? If she screwed this one up it was likely Sungyeol wouldn’t talk to her ever again for meddling in his business.

Why was Myungsoo acting like this? She didn’t get it. She’d always been criticized for how straightforward and blunt she was, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t observant. It looked like Myungsoo’d been hurt in the past by someone badly enough to make him shy away from relationships this severely, even though Sungyeol was a catch in a million. He made her almost wish she had a child old enough to marry off to him, and disappeared briefly into a romantic daydream, playing the delighted mother-in-law.

What would make Myungsoo want to try giving it a shot with Sungyeol?

An idea popped into her head at the memory of dark eyes glaring at Sungyeol’s arms wrapped around her – Min grimaced, it being so worthy of a stereotypical television drama it made her wince. Those making-someone-jealous scenarios never worked in real life – either they just fell flat or caused people to start fighting, creating the absolute opposite from the intended effect.

But… Myungsoo had a bad temper and was possessive enough not to take it quietly if someone else was trying to move in on Sungyeol, especially if Sungyeol was responding. She normally hated guys like that, but even she had to admit that jealous Myungsoo with his smouldering gaze and that handsome face all intense was smoking hot. She shook her head at herself. Frailty, thy name is woman.

And Sungyeol – he would never agree to this. Unless, of course, she didn’t tell him. But here came the million-dollar question: who was she supposed to get who would be able to charm Sungyeol enough without being intimidated by Myungsoo? And how on earth would she be able to make sure that Myungsoo wouldn’t just make a mess of everything and then reject Sungyeol again after the dust settled?

Min worried her bottom lip, ready to give up. She shouldn’t even be thinking about this, given how well it had gone the last time she’d tried to push the two of them together.

Her phone buzzed and she absentmindedly picked it up, swiping the screen to open the message that had just come in.

 

From: woohyunnie

_party friday woot woot meet 11pm hongdae gates don’t wear a bra_

 

Min was about to reply, a grin on her face, when she stopped short. Woohyun. _Woohyun!_ Gorgeous, charming, incorrigible, irrepressibly sexual Woohyun. 

Trying not to think too much about it, she started to type on her phone furiously.

*

From: sungyeol

_you just had to invite him too, didn’t you?_

 

From: minkyung~

_we’ve all been working so hard, so has he. and stop messaging me when you’re just next to me, it’s weird_

 

From: sungyeol

_you’re up to something._

 

From: minkyung~

_am not! swear to god, yeol. i just felt bad leaving him out_

 

From: sungyeol

_you are the worst liar, you know that?_

 

Min panicked, stealing a glance at Sungyeol sitting on the stone bench next to her. The place was full of milling university students and people carrying food, some already tipsy, laughing and talking raucously. Myungsoo sat quietly on her other side, wrapped in black from top to toe; black army boots, jeans and shirt under a wool coat. Min had seen Sungyeol’s face soften in pleasure at the sight of him when he’d arrived, just before he’d plastered on the poker face he was wearing now. Idiot.

All she could hope for was that he just thought she was trying to get them to interact by inviting them both out together, and nothing more. Woohyun better be as good an actor as he said he was.

Woohyun arrived just as the silence was getting too unbearable – Min quickly turned around at the sound of his voice and breathed a gigantic sigh of relief at the sight of him. He’d really outdone himself tonight – eyelinered up and well-chosen shirt hinting at a nicely-defined chest and arms. He quickly introduced his friends – Dae-something and Sung-something – being friendly enough with Myungsoo, but when he turned to Sungyeol Min recognized the familiar signs of Woohyun’s switch flicking ‘on’.

“Hi,” he said, blinding smile almost knocking out a few girls standing a few metres behind Sungyeol. He took Sungyeol’s hand and shook it lightly, fingers and eyes lingering, and then – the kicker – dropped his gaze and bit his lip, seemingly embarrassed to be caught drinking Sungyeol in like that. If Min could whistle, she would have. It was like watching a master at work.

Woohyun turned to go, making sure he was walking near Sungyeol, instantly engaging him in conversation. Min sneaked peeks at Sungyeol, who was smiling back and laughing a little under all the attention, though sporting the slightly bewildered look Woohyun’s victims usually wore when being hit with the full force of Woohyun’s personality. Woohyun’s friends were trying to talk to Myungsoo, who was giving minimal answers and hadn’t missed a single bit of the way Woohyun had introduced himself to Sungyeol, judging by the way his face was nearly as black as his outfit. Min allowed herself to hope a little. Myungsoo was almost too easy.

They entered a club, Woohyun hugging the bouncer at the door like he was a long lost brother. Leaving their coats at the door, the music instantly grabbed all of them as they surged into the crowd on the dancefloor, cheers for the DJ ebbing and flowing with the thumping beats. Woohyun disappeared for a while, reappearing with one of his friends balancing twelve shotglasses on a small tray.

“It’s one for one tonight!” he shouted at them happily.

“What is it?” Sungyeol shouted back, and Woohyun pulled him close by his shirt to speak in his ear rather than shout over the music – it was a practical move, of course, but Woohyun’s lips were brushing Sungyeol’s ear and his hand was still on Sungyeol’s chest, and Myungsoo’s eyebrows had disappeared into his fringe. Woohyun pulled back a little to grin at Sungyeol, handing him his shotglass, and Sungyeol took it from him. The dim lighting couldn’t hide the pink in his cheeks. Min would have loved to know what Woohyun had said to him, because whatever it was she was sure ‘vodka’, ‘gin’, or ‘rum’ didn’t make people blush like that.

Myungsoo grabbed his two glasses off the tray and knocked back the alcohol one shot after another, carelessly putting them down on a nearby table.

“Dance!” Woohyun yelled, and Min let herself be pulled by Dae-something onto the dancefloor. It was crowded and hot, bodies pressed together as they moved to the music, the sound of it so loud they felt it in their bones rather than through their ears. Myungsoo settled himself at the bar, already nursing another glass.

Min could see Sungyeol nearby to her left, dancing with Woohyun a bit self-consciously. She caught him glancing towards the bar where Myungsoo sat, which, Min surmised, was probably a good thing. Right?

Two shots turned into three drinks, three drinks into five, and Sungyeol was screaming in delight as Nicki Minaj’s _Starships_ came on. “This is my song!” he jumped in excitement as Woohyun laughed at him, snaking an arm around his waist to get closer. The people around them were throwing them looks, some amused and some scandalized as they danced up on each other, getting increasingly touchy-feely. Alcohol worked wonders, Min thought through the haze in her head, especially when it was accompanied by that particular grin of Woohyun’s. Woohyun leaned close to tell Sungyeol something, the angle of their heads looking for all the world like they were kissing, one of Woohyun’s hands in Sungyeol’s hair. Sungyeol pulled away and laughed, throwing his head back; Woohyun yanked Sungyeol back to him by Sungyeol’s belt loops, grin feral and hips bumping up against each other in time to the music.

They made their wobbly way over to Myungsoo during a lull in the tracklist, Dae- and Sung-something having disappeared to different corners of the club to hook girls for the night. They were all drenched from the exertion and press of bodies, sweat trickling down Sungyeol’s neck to pool in the hollow between his collarbones.

Myungsoo looked away as they approached.

“Why aren’t you dancing with us, Myung!” Woohyun wheedled, not registering the death glare Myungsoo shot him at the use of the abbreviated version of his name. “Don’t be a spoilsport!”

Sungyeol found something hilarious in one of those two sentences and started giggling uncontrollably, almost falling over from the force of it. Woohyun caught him neatly, slinging both arms around Sungyeol’s waist and keeping them there.

“Min, do I have your permission to bring this one home with me later?” Woohyun asked, eyes sparkling. “I think he likes me.” Sungyeol tried to wriggle out of Woohyun’s grasp, weakly hitting with his fists and still giggling.

“No, he doesn’t,” Myungsoo said, the tone of his voice slicing through the space between them. “He’s just had a bit too much to drink and I think he should be going home soon.”

“I think he’ll be staying here,” Woohyun replied pleasantly. “With me.”

Myungsoo stood up, and the fog in Min’s head began to disappear, chased away by fear at the look on his face. 

“I said he’s going home.”

“Who are you to make his decisions?” Woohyun asked, still in that pleasant voice that Min was coming to dread. Sungyeol was frowning, clearly not too far gone to realize that something was happening. He untangled Woohyun’s arms from around himself and put an unsteady hand on Myungsoo’s arm. “Myungsoo-”

“Come on,” Myungsoo said, grabbing Sungyeol around the waist and pushing past Woohyun towards the door. Woohyun made to follow, but Min snatched a handful of his shirt and hauled him backwards, shaking her head firmly at him.

“That’s the guy you want Sungyeol to end up with? Seriously?” Woohyun asked her, rolling his eyes. “Next time you ask me to do something like this make sure the target isn’t so cute.”

“Shut up, in half an hour you’ll be wrapped around somebody new,” Min said dismissively.

“I miss him already,” Woohyun pouted. Min punched him in the arm.

*

The cold air outside the club was like a slap to the face, sobering Sungyeol up considerably. He squinted down at Myungsoo tugging and shoving him into his coat, shaking him off rather belligerently to do it himself.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” he muttered, slowly doing up his buttons with fingers that were still drunk. “You don’t want me but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. Am I supposed to be a monk for the rest of my life?” 

Myungsoo slapped away his hands and buttoned up his coat for him. “At least I don’t throw myself at the first person who shows interest,” he bit back, and stumbled over his own feet. Sungyeol reached out and stopped him from falling, then shoved him for good measure.

“I was not _throwing_ myself at him,” Sungyeol argued, walking off in a random direction. “I was _dancing_ , but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Woohyun was right, you’re a big spoilsport.”

Myungsoo grabbed the back of his coat and turned him around to the correct direction they should be going in. “So go date him, why don’t you? He seems like he’s the easy sort, anyway.”

“So that’s the only reason why he’d want me, is that it?” Sungyeol stopped and raised his voice, ignoring the other Hongdae passersby. He was drunk, they’d understand. “Because he’d jump into bed with anyone?”

“Sungyeol, who the hell flirts like that? He was all over you!”

“That’s because,” Sungyeol waved a finger in front of Myungsoo’s face, “I am drop-dead sexy.”

Myungsoo opened and shut his mouth, the only comeback he could think of being a very witty “So?”

“So,” Sungyeol said, invading Myungsoo’s personal space and taking one of Myungsoo’s hands, “I am going to fuck whoever I want, as long as you don’t have the balls to admit what we both know you feel for me. And this,” Sungyeol brought Myungsoo’s hand to his chest and slowly dragged it down his body. “will be off-limits to you until you stop lying to yourself.”

Sungyeol didn’t back off, his breath coasting over Myungsoo’s face and hand still holding Myungsoo’s in place just above his jeans button. Myungsoo stared back, heart beginning to pound.

“I don’t want any other man touching you,” he whispered, breath harsh in his own ears.

“And?” Sungyeol asked softly, eyes on Myungsoo’s lips.

 “Back there, I would have – I would have hit – Woohyun-”

“It’s understandable, it’s me we’re talking about,” Sungyeol murmured, letting Myungsoo’s hand go to curl a finger into the high collar of Myungsoo’s coat. Myungsoo’s hand stayed on Sungyeol’s stomach, thumb rubbing circles unconsciously.

“You scare the fuck out of me. I-”

Sungyeol waited.

“Sungyeol, I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Exactly what do you think I’m asking you to do?” Sungyeol asked in a soft voice, the finger in Myungsoo’s collar moving to tap lightly against Myungsoo’s chin.

Somebody in the crowd whooped at them, clapping loudly. Myungsoo jerked away and almost fell over again, the alcohol in his system not done with him yet. Sungyeol carelessly gave them the finger, supremely uncaring.

Sungyeol took his hand and began walking, Myungsoo helplessly following and not exactly sure what just happened.

*


	11. Chapter 11

Sungyeol pressed the heel of his free palm into an eye socket, groaning slightly. “Man, I’m going to feel like shit in the morning.”

Myungsoo followed quietly, their still-joined hands swinging slightly between them. There was nothing else in the entire world he was more aware of at that moment than Sungyeol’s hand holding his – maybe it was the alcochol amplifying his senses, and it seemed silly because they’d already done so much more than just hold hands, but something big and intangible had changed in the last ten minutes and the simple feel of Sungyeol’s warm fingers around his cold ones was making it hard for him to focus on the very necessary task of putting one foot in front of another. His heart raced both for the intoxicatingly innocent act of Sungyeol claiming him like that, as well as for the possible attention from the people around them – but it was one o’ clock in the morning and nobody paid them any heed.

Myungsoo stumbled again and Sungyeol stopped to look back at him. “Just how much did you drink? I can’t even remember how much I had but I’m still more sober than you are.”

“I might have had a Jägerbomb at some point,” Myungsoo muttered. “Or two.”

Sungyeol stared at him with liquor-bright eyes and broke into delighted laughter, tugging him forward again. “Drowning your sorrows at seeing me in another man’s arms? That is unbelievably cute.”

 _I’m not cute,_ Myungsoo wanted to whine, but thought better of it. _Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot._

Sungyeol hailed a cab and ducked into it, letting Myungsoo’s hand go as they settled in. He told the cabby his address, and then turned to Myungsoo expectantly. “Your home or the hotel?”

“What?” Myungsoo asked in unconscious disappointment, almost pouting before he caught himself. God, he should never, _ever_ drink. “Um-”

Sungyeol watched him for a moment, his head cocked to the side, before he turned to back to the driver and repeated his address.

“You’re not going to throw up, are you?”

Myungsoo shook his head carefully, watching Sungyeol. Sungyeol leant back into the seat as the taxi moved off, closing his eyes and grimacing a bit at the cabby’s jerky driving. Myungsoo took a deep breath and forced himself to relax as the night’s bright lights washed over the darkness of their taxi, illuminating a knee, the shine off dark hair, his wool coat.

He inched his hand closer to Sungyeol’s, their little fingers bumping.

*

Sungyeol unlocked his front door, throwing the keys and his wallet onto a ratty old armchair wedged in between a bookcase and his pile of shoes. The apartment was tiny – Sungyeol hadn’t been joking about that – his bed was shoved up against his wardrobe and his window was lined with small potted plants (“That’s Kyungjong, Hajin, Jihyuk, Do-il, Hyunsoo. I loved that show, did you watch it?”), a small television balancing on top of a desk of drawers and things everywhere. The kitchen was tinier and the bathroom miniscule, but “hey, it’s all mine,” Sungyeol said proudly.

Myungsoo stood in the middle of the flat, feeling awkward now that the alcohol was beginning to wear off a little. What was he thinking, coming back here with Sungyeol? Sungyeol probably expected – he’d said too much earlier, the words transforming into completely different things than intended as they left his mouth, and he’d behaved like a total fool.

Sungyeol nudged a glass of water into his hand. “Drink it all.” Myungsoo drank, looking everywhere but Sungyeol. Sungyeol disappeared into the kitchen with the empty glass, crockery tinkling and water running for a minute before re-appearing with a bathtowel.

“Do you want to shower?”

Myungsoo looked up uncertainly, feeling completely at sea; not knowing what was happening and what was going to come. _Did Sungyeol mean shower… together? Were they going to have sex? Did Sungyeol think they were together now?_

“Oh, it’s that look again,” Sungyeol announced dramatically, leaning a hip against the doorway to the kitchen. “You can’t run, Myungsoo, I’ve locked the gate and only I have the keys.” Myungsoo looked down, tiny frown appearing between his brows.

“If you’re not going to shower then I’m going to sleep. You can take the bed, but throw me one of the pillows. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“On the – what?”

“What did you think I brought you back here for, to have my wicked way with you because you’re too drunk to say no?”

“I thought-”

Sungyeol waited, an eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know what I thought,” Myungsoo confessed.

Sungyeol slung the bath towel across the back of a wooden chair with a sigh and began rummaging in one of his cupboards for a futon to lay on the floor. “Myungsoo, I like you, but I’m not proposing marriage, here. We hardly know each other and to be honest, I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, either.” He straightened, blue folds of the futon overflowing in his arms as he tugged it out of the cupboard. “Or if anything is going to happen at all. Clearly, with you, things are not that straightforward.”

He dumped the futon on the floor, beginning to smooth it out. “However, at the same time, you don’t seem to be able to leave me alone. So we’re at a kind of impasse.”

Sungyeol held his hands out for a pillow, and Myungsoo passed it to him. “So until we figure out what we’re going to do, _if_ we’re going to do anything, just chill out, okay?”

Myungsoo nodded slowly, more than a little taken aback by Sungyeol’s speech and yet feeling almost pathetically thankful. “I’m sorry, Sungyeol, that I’m being so… like this.”

Sungyeol shrugged, grabbing his pajamas lying on his bed to change into. “It’s my curse in life,” he said, going into the bathroom. “I attract crazy people.”

Myungsoo grinned at the closed bathroom door. “Do I get pajamas too?”

“Sure, but I only have regular people pajamas, not crazy people pajamas. Go look in the dark brown wardrobe. And wash your feet and hands before you get in my bed!”

*

“Where are you?” Myungsoo flailed the hand hanging off the bed in the general direction of the lump on the floor, finally locating Sungyeol in the dark with a smack.

"Go to sleep,” Sungyeol mumbled, swatting at Myungsoo’s hand. “Stop hitting me!”

“I like your apartment,” Myungsoo informed him, poking his hip. “And I like your plants.”

“Thank you very much. Go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry for what I told you that time. In my room. I didn’t mean it at all.”

“I know. Sleep.”

“How did you know?”

 “Please. Like I don’t see you watching me everywhere I go.”

“That’s what Min said, too,” Myungsoo scowled at himself. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“If you knew I didn’t mean it then why weren’t you talking to me?"

“It still hurt, dumbass.”

“Oh.” Myungsoo let his hand hang limp over the side. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Will you go to sleep now?”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Oh my god,” Sungyeol rolled over and sat up. “I always fantasized about having you in my bed but now I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll shut up.” Myungsoo withdrew his hand and buried himself deeper in the blankets. “Goodnight, Sungyeol.”

“Goodnight, Myung.”

Myungsoo smiled and closed his eyes, and then belatedly bolted upright in indignance. “Don’t you dare start calling me that!”

Sungyeol the lump shook in laughter, Myungsoo shoving him with his foot. Sungyeol went to sleep with a smile on his face.

*

Myungsoo woke too early in a strange bed, Sungyeol’s smell surrounding him. The warm blankets and the pillow and bedsheets all were bathed in his smell, and Myungsoo rolled over to bury his nose in it, knowing he’d be embarrassed if he got caught doing so. The lump beside him on the floor was gone, the futon bundled up neatly in a corner and the extra pillow at the foot of the bed.

Myungsoo swung his legs out of bed, head swimming slightly and mouth feeling like it was made of cotton wool. Alcohol was bad. And he really needed a bath.

He padded silently to the kitchen doorway where he found Sungyeol bent over the small stove, hair sticking out at odd angles and too-big pajama shirt slipping off one shoulder. He pottered sleepily around the kitchen, checking the bubbling pot and adding seasoning, pausing for a minute to make two mugs of tea. The morning sun filtered in through the tiny kitchen window and the quiet of the world outside adding to Myungsoo’s feeling of having stumbled into a secret world of magical kimchi jjigae breakfasts and worn-soft pajamas.

Myungsoo entered the kitchen, announcing his presence by hitching up Sungyeol’s shirt so that it covered the shoulder it was threatening to slip off of. “’Morning.”

“You sleep talk,” Sungyeol greeted him accusingly without preamble. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me you sleep talk? Do you have any idea how much you scared me when I woke up in the middle of the night to pee? I half-thought Maggie had followed you here.”

Myungsoo had the most terrible urge to hug Sungyeol, the feeling bubbling up in his chest without warning and displaying on his face as a huge grin.

“Do you remember when I had to save you from her the first day you started at the hotel?”

Sungyeol scoffed, turning back to his pot. “Beginning of all my troubles.” He scratched his head, making even more hair stand on end; Myungsoo gave up, and backhugged him.

Sungyeol went very still, and then reached out cautiously to continue stirring his jjigae. “Someone’s in a good mood,” he murmured, Myungsoo letting him go rather quickly. “I just really like kimchi jjigae,” Myungsoo said defensively.

They ate in comfortable silence, the hot stew more than welcome to their empty stomachs. Myungsoo felt warm all over. Sungyeol could make really good kimchi jjigae = +10 bonus points.

“Do you have to work today? Your phone’s been buzzing all night.” Myungsoo asked.

“It’s probably Min wanting to know if we’ve killed each other,” Sungyeol said around a mouthful of rice. He snagged his phone and opened his messages.

 

From: minkyung~

_are you okay? what happened? was he mad?_

 

From: minkyung~

_omg why are you not replying? is it bad? do you need me to come get you?_

 

From: minkyung~

_woohyun’s being trying to steal my phone to get your number. if he texts you DO NOT REPLY I REPEAT DO NOT REPLY_

 

From: minkyung~

_if i find out you’ve just been sleeping all this time i’m going to kill you lee sungyeol_

 

From: sungyeol

_i know you were up to something last night. i don’t know what, but you were. not sure exactly re: status of him and me but.. thanks._

 

Sungyeol sent the message, knowing its vagueness would just infuriate Min more, and tossed his phone aside with an internal grin. 

“Do you have to go in today?” Sungyeol asked Myungsoo, who had carefully carried the bowls and pot into the kitchen to wash.

“Yes and no,” Myungsoo replied. “Yes there’s always work to be done, and no if you have other plans.”

“Plans? Like a date?”

Myungsoo looked up in scorn. “Am I a girl you have to take out on dates?”

“You’re the one who mentioned plans, not me! And why not, I would like to be taken out on dates.”

Myungsoo stopped, immediately hesitant. “Do you want me to take you out on a date?”

“Are we dating?” Sungyeol threw back at him.

“…Let’s just stay in.”

*

Myungsoo felt a lot better after a shower, having changed back into Sungyeol’s pajamas and made a nest for himself on Sungyeol’s bed, the owner of which was being currently grumpy at him for using up most of the hot water.

“You sleep talk, you use up all my hot water…” Sungyeol groused, “And now you colonize my bed.”

“You’re welcome to join me,” Myungsoo said, patting the space next to him.

Sungyeol grinned at him and climbed in. “Is that an invitation?”

“Well, yes, technically, since I’m inviting you to sit on your bed,” Myungsoo explained slowly, as if to someone stupid. Sungyeol glared, his innuendo falling flat.

“Give me some of the blanket.” He yanked at it, causing Myungsoo to slap his hands away before he destroyed Myungsoo’s perfect nest. “It’s _my_ blanket!”

Myungsoo shoved him away with his shoulder and the two of them began to tussle over the blanket, hands touching more than they needed to and lingering longer than necessary, the both of them precisely aware of what they were doing. Myungsoo ended up entangled in the blanket sitting with his back to Sungyeol, Sungyeol’s arms around him and warm breath on his neck. Myungsoo’s heart pounded in his ears, his struggles only for show and feeling embarrassed at how obviously he wanted it.

Sungyeol swallowed behind him and started to move away as their fake-tussle wound down but Myungsoo turned his face up to look at Sungyeol, not caring how clearly his desire was showing. It almost felt like everything since last night had inevitably led to this – watching Sungyeol’s eyes darken and go heavy as Woohyun ran his hands down Sungyeol’s sides and gripped his hips, splay his fingers over Sungyeol’s stomach, possessive, as they danced back-to-front; Sungyeol dragging Myungsoo’s hand down his body and stopping just shy of his crotch, making Myungsoo’s hands itch; the way his broad back had felt against Myungsoo through the thin cotton of his clothes as Myungsoo’d hugged Sungyeol just an hour earlier.

Sungyeol searched Myungsoo’s face for a moment before he bent his mouth to Myungsoo’s, the still-unfamiliar taste of Sungyeol sending a jolt down Myungsoo’s spine. Myungsoo twisted in Sungyeol’s embrace to get closer, wondering how a simple kiss could cause him to unravel like this, his fingers clenched in the blanket and Sungyeol’s shirt. They had to separate for a minute to allow Myungsoo to extricate himself from the octopus arms of the blanket, Sungyeol half-laughing at him, and when free Myungsoo turned to completely face Sungyeol, sitting with his knees drawn up on either side of Sungyeol, Sungyeol mirroring him. Myungsoo moved in first this time, letting his hands wander over Sungyeol’s shoulders and hair as they kissed, tracing his jaw and line of his neck while Sungyeol rested his on Myungsoo’s thighs, allowing Myungsoo to explore.

 _This_ was first kiss material, Myungsoo’s pulse jumping and sending his blood racing enough to make him light-headed. The other earlier ones didn’t count – never would count against these, a hundred times more mutual and more sincere than those had been. Myungsoo couldn’t help but let out a moan into Sungyeol’s mouth at the way Sungyeol ran his tongue over Myungsoo’s bottom lip and flicked against his, his kisses becoming more insistent the lower Myungsoo’s hands traveled. Unexpectedly, Sungyeol caught Myungsoo’s hands the moment they were going to dip below his waistband.

“Not just yet,” Sungyeol murmured against Myungsoo’s lips, pressing feather-light kisses to the corner of his mouth. “I want you to be sure.” He kissed a trail down Myungsoo’s jaw and neck, nuzzling his face into the soft skin there.

“It’s not like I’m a virgin or something-” Myungsoo began, incredulous and incredibly disappointed.

“Neither am I, but I’m not that easy,” Sungyeol grinned against Myungsoo’s neck, nipping with his teeth. “You’ve got to earn it, first.”

*


	12. Chapter 12

“I don’t know that much about you,” Myungsoo said lazily, facing Sungyeol as they lay in bed, the blankets tucked up to their necks. He was well-fed and warm, and Sungyeol was comfortingly near.

“Red,” Sungyeol answered sleepily, eyelids growing heavy at the warmth surrounding him despite it only being about eleven o’clock in the morning.

“What?”

“My favourite colour is red.”

“Oh! Mine is-”

“Black.”

“How’d you know?”

Sungyeol rolled his eyes affectionately at him. “Do you even own clothes in any other colour?”

“I think I have a grey shirt or two.”

“Wow, stop the press.” Myungsoo pressed his cold toes to Sungyeol’s warm legs in retaliation, causing him to whine and shimmy away. Myungsoo hesitated, then lifted a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Sungyeol’s ear. Sungyeol met his eyes fast enough to catch the fond look in them.

“So, there’s been a marked lack of freaking out on your part today despite us making quite the domestic picture,” Sungyeol yawned, wondering why he was bringing up something so sensitive when Myungsoo was so relaxed and at ease. He had no wish to rush things – had really meant what he’d said last night – but something perverse in him wanted to push Myungsoo perhaps a little further than he was willing to admit. Myungsoo had made a surprising turnaround in his attitude since the same time yesterday, and yet – and yet.

Myungsoo broke eye contact, and Sungyeol sighed at himself for prodding when he knew better; however, Myungsoo seemed to be genuinely thinking about it.

“I think I just really like being around you,” Myungsoo answered finally, forcing himself to be honest. “I kind of don’t want to leave here.” His voice was so soft that it was almost as if he didn’t want Sungyeol to hear.

“Well, if you’re not leaving I’m going to start charging rent, just so you know,” Sungyeol joked to cover the seriousness of the moment, knowing Myungsoo was a million miles away from the implications of living together and everything that entailed.

“I’m glad we’re friends, underneath – underneath everything.”

Sungyeol smiled.

*

They walked into the hotel together later, being met instantly by an anxious female whirlwind. Min scrutinized the two of them, her hand jumping to her mouth when she realized Myungsoo still had on the clothes he’d worn to the club the night before.

“Oh my god, you – you _didn’t_! You _did!_ ”

Sungyeol took her by the elbow to steer her into a corner and save Myungsoo the embarrassment, Myungsoo secretly nudging fingers underneath Sungyeol’s shirt in farewell before he climbed the stairs to his room.

“Breathe, Min, breathe.”

“Oh my god. You’ve changed clothes, but he’s still in his clubbing outfit – he stayed over with you? Did you-?” Min excitedly pumped the index finger of her right hand into a circle made by the fingers of the other. Sungyeol immediately slapped her hands away, controlling a guffaw.

“I’m going to drop you into cook’s biggest pot and boil you, Cho Minkyung! Don’t be so crude!”

“Did you?!”

“No, we did not. I slept on the floor and let him have my bed, like a true gentleman.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Min jawdropped. “Best opportunity ever, and totally wasted.”

“I’m not a horndog like you, I know how to control myself. Anyway, boy’s got major commitment issues, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. Talking about figuring out things – Woohyun was a setup, wasn’t he?”

Min turned away quickly, plastering an innocent look on her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re insane. If Myungsoo hadn’t left when he did I think there would have really been blood on the dancefloor last night.”

“But isn’t that romantic?” Min clasped her hands together and batted her eyelashes at Sungyeol, earning her an intense side-eye. She dropped the act as a thought hit her. “Yah. Woohyun didn’t try to message you, did he?”

“Nope, but don’t discourage him. I think I’ll keep him as a backup in case Myungsoo panics and changes his mind again.”

“No you cannot!” Min grabbed Sungyeol’s shirt, shaking him a bit. “Not after everything! Wait, changes his mind? You mean he changed his mind? Okay, you know what, just shut up and sit down and tell me everything.”

Sungyeol stowed his bag in his locker and started at the beginning, Min swooning and squealing as the story progressed. When Sungyeol finished she was slumped against the sofa, panting from emotional overload.

“I feel like I need a cigarette right now,” she fanned herself. “Oh my god, your life is amazing.”

 “My life is fraught with peril, because it includes meddling dwarfs like you.”

“ _Just_ because you’re inhumanly tall…” Min trailed off, shooting Sungyeol a warning look. “So. You’re… pre-together? You have an ‘understanding’? What?”

Sungyeol shrugged. “No idea. It’s kind of nice though. There’s no pressure at all. It’s like… we’re free to do anything we want and we don’t have to worry about what the other expects."

“Please. You completely want him to be your exclusive, live-in, disgustingly domestic boyfriend,” Min scoffed, and Sungyeol wrinkled his nose at that.

“I don’t actually like that term, boyfriend. I think I’d just introduce him to people as ‘my Myungsoo’.”

He grinned like a fool at her, Min feeling another major squee coming on.

*

Myungsoo stripped off, flicking through the spare clothes he kept in his room for fresh boxers and a shirt. He contemplated just slinging on a bathrobe because he had always rather enjoyed the feel of the hotel’s heated air on his bare skin; he wondered briefly if that made him a nudist.

“Hello, Myungsoo,” Maggie said.

“Augh!” Myungsoo blindly grabbed handfuls of fabric from his closet and held the clothes over his crotch, the metal hangers still in them poking uncomfortably into tender areas. “Maggie, what the _hell!_ ”

She giggled, settling down at the foot of his bed. “You’ve been looking for me?”

“Yes – but not now!”

“Go on and change, I don’t mind,” she grinned. Myungsoo glared. He looked down at what he’d grabbed from the closet, and saw a shirt he could use. Keeping the clothes on him, he stuck a hand into a drawer for a pair of boxers and inched into the bathroom. “Don’t you dare follow me in here.”

“How do you know I haven’t seen it all before?”

Myungsoo reddened, unwilling to contemplate that thought. He emerged once all his private bits were covered by enough cloth to make him feel safe to find her still smiling widely at him.

“You have a cute butt.” Myungsoo prayed for patience.

“What I’ve been trying to talk to you about,” he said, trying to maintain his dignity while attempting to phrase his news in the calmest way he could, “is the upcoming competition in four days. You-know-who is going to come here as a judge, and we want to finally get him, Maggie. Finally get enough evidence to put him away for good for what he did to you. But we can’t do it without your help.”

He watched her carefully, unsure how she would react. She flickered slightly, something that usually indicated emotional distress – Myungsoo quickly reached out a hand to her instinctively.

“You deserve peace, Maggie. We will never get another chance like this again. Will you hear me out?”

She disappeared and reappeared near the window, still flickering, but the seconds ticked by and she didn’t leave. Myungsoo slowly began to talk, her silhouette becoming more solid with every word he said.

*

_D-day + 4_

Min walked through the hotel, checking the decorations. They weren’t ever going to win any awards, but the point was to put on the façade that the hotel was honestly trying. Every corridor had its mismatched streamers, the lobby had its tree, and the main doors had their mistletoe. They were as ready as they were ever going to be.

Sungyeol found her by chance in 307, sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. He closed the door and sat down next to her silently, folding up his long limbs and letting their arms and thighs bump up against each other for comfort. She put out her hand and he took it in both of his.

“Why didn’t she ever tell us what happened to her?”

He put an arm around her and she leaned into him, surprised to find tears slipping down her cheeks.

(Sungyeol corners Myungsoo in the lift at 5.32pm and they fall out of it at the fourth floor at 5.35pm, kissing furiously and hands everywhere.)

*

_D-day + 3_

Mr Kim looked through their accounts for the hundredth time and hoped for the hundredth time to have made a mistake, staring unseeing at the wall in front of him as he realized that they were finally out of money. The bills had snowballed while the number of customers had dwindled to almost nothing – they were lucky if they got a booking once every three days.

He got up from his chair and ran his hands over the wallpaper, little owls in lines that ran diagonally from top to bottom. Every room had a different one – he remembered how Yoora had dragged him from one wallpaper shop to another, determined that she was going to find twenty wallpaper designs for the hotel’s twenty rooms, each one quirky and interesting. She’d done it, too, despite his neverending complaints.

“It seems like we’re done, Yoora,” he whispered.

(Myungsoo and Sungyeol play twenty questions during Sungyeol’s night shift. While mulling over ‘What makes you the happiest?’ Myungsoo lifts one of Sungyeol’s arms to smell his wrist, then the inside of his elbow, then the crook of his neck.

“Right now, it’s how you smell,” he says. Sungyeol cannot decide if this is sweet or just creepy, but he lets Myungsoo kiss the shell of his ear afterwards anyway, lingering over his piercings.)

*

_D-day +1_

Nobody could sit in one place for more than a few minutes, the feeling of restlessness and knowledge of the impending showdown permeating the entire hotel to the point that Mr Kim decided to just go home in order to calm his nerves. Maggie hadn’t been seen since Myungsoo had told the others he’d spoken to her – leaving out the being caught naked part of the story – and everybody was nervous about whether Maggie would show. They’d have nothing except a possible harassment lawsuit on their hands if she didn’t hold up her end of the deal, but nobody envied her her role in it in any case. Min checked the camcorder she’d brought every few minutes and they all went through their roles more times than they needed to.

They had nothing to do but wait and hope.

(Sungyeol stays with Myungsoo that night, folding into him and feeling the rise and fall of his chest in the darkness.

“What happens when I start to need you?” Myungsoo whispers, threading his fingers through Sungyeol’s hair.

Sungyeol wordlessly intertwines their fingers in answer. Myungsoo can feel it galloping up upon him sometime in the not-so-distant future, and the expected dread is dulled by – highlighted, complimented by – the thrill at Sungyeol’s next words.

“Then I’ll need you right back.”)

*

_D-day_

It snowed heavily during the night, Sungyeol and Myungsoo waking up together to the sight of pure white blanketing the street outside. Whether this was a good or bad omen nobody could tell.

(“You sleep-talked again.”

“You snored.”

“Liar.”)

They pottered around doing a thousand irrelevant things, all to distract themselves from what was to come later that afternoon. There were two other judges coming with Han Seunghoon, and it was imperative that everyone toured the hotel together – at no time was any one to break off from the main group. For this to work, they needed witnesses.

Sungyeol couldn’t stop his fingers from tapping erratic beats into the sofa seat, feeling like ants were running all over him. Myungsoo grabbed his hand and pressed it into the sofa to stop his fingers from moving.

“You’re driving me insane.”

Sungyeol couldn’t even bring himself to make an innuendo out of that. Mr Kim went out to buy them all hoddeok for lack of anything else to do, and the four of them sat in the lobby munching quietly and watching the clock.

“I can’t take it,” Min broke finally. “I can’t do this. When he gets here I’m just going to give it all away by saying something stupid and then he’ll run and the entire thing will fail.”

“Then don’t say anything!” Sungyeol shot back irritably.

“What kind of hotel has a mute receptionist? Does that make any sense?”

“Does our _hotel_ make any sense?”

Myungsoo just glared at the two of them as Mr Kim tried to stop them bickering by making them eat more hoddeok. They quietened, cheeks bulging.

Waiting forever, all too soon it was time.

They all jumped to their feet as the doors swung inwards, the judges entering. One, a lady, looked up at the mistletoe hanging over her and laughed a little, the sound of it tinkling like breaking glass amidst the tense atmosphere. A tall man followed her in, and then the doors swung closed.

The four of them gaped, forgetting even to greet the couple that was standing there expectantly in front of them.

“…Hello, my name is-” the man began, only to be interrupted by Sungyeol.

“Isn’t Han Seunghoon coming too?”

“He’s parking the car,” the lady answered, clearly annoyed. “He’ll be in in a moment.”

Sungyeol slumped in visible relief, and then Min thankfully remembered her manners. “I’m very sorry, we’ve all just been waiting very nervously the whole day for you to come. Good afternoon, you must be very tired from your rounds!”

They were galvanized into action by her words, immediately bowing and shaking hands and Min introducing each one of them. Sungyeol politely offered them the tea they had prepared, a pretty pale golden brew with little flowers sitting in the bottom of the porcelain cups that had the two judges smiling in appreciation. The doors opened as Mr Kim was just serving the mollified female judge and Han Seunghoon walked in – Myungsoo felt like time was grinding to a halt. He was tall and still goodlooking for his age, a ready smile on his face and expensive coat swirling around his calves – was this how he had appeared to Maggie, twenty years ago? Handsome and charming older man, warm and friendly – Myungsoo bit the inside of his cheek as a reminder to act normally. He cast a quick glance at Sungyeol, but he had nothing to worry about – Sungyeol had a perfect mask on, expression pleasant and not giving away a single thing. They shook hands with Han Seunghoon, time speeding up again, and Myungsoo felt his skin crawl at the touch. He could sense Min’s disgust from where he was standing.

“Shall we?” Mr Kim asked, and the tour began.

Even though they already knew their decorations weren’t anything to shout about, having the three judges there trying to be nice about their very pedestrian party-shop streamers and rather normal tree made Myungsoo clench his hands behind his back, digging his fingernails into his palm. A fierce protectiveness came over him – decorations or no, this hotel was worth a thousand times more than any one of them there. His eyes narrowed on the back of Han Seunghoon’s head.

Second floor. Third floor.

“We have a special themed room for Christmas that we’d like to show you,” Mr Kim smiled, every bit the professional. Myungsoo had never been prouder of his father. “Please, this way.”

301, 303, 305, 307. Myungsoo couldn’t help but watch Han Seunghoon’s face as they stopped outside 307, imagining that he could see something flickering in the man’s eyes. Han looked down and away, accidentally catching Myungsoo’s gaze, and Myungsoo forced himself to smile. He couldn’t hear what Min was saying over the roaring of his heart in his ears.

Min opened the door and stood aside, waiting for the judges to enter first. The man and lady walked easily into the room, but Han hesitated on the threshold for a moment. Myungsoo shot Sungyeol a sharp glance, wondering what would happen if Han refused to go inside; Mr Kim’s hand rested seemingly casually on Sungyeol’s shoulder, but Myungsoo could see the whites of his knuckles. 

“Mr Han?” Min smiled encouragingly, and he entered the room.

They followed him in, Mr Kim being careful to shut and lock the door after them. The room was bare; the only thing in it being a large Christmas tree in a corner, decorated with blue and green lights and baubles. Maggie had shown Myungsoo what the room Han had brought her to looked like – he’d drugged her with something, and she’d woken up lying on the floor next to the tree. Myungsoo had asked her to stop the vision before Maggie could show him what had happened next. He simply didn’t want to know.

The two judges were looking round in polite confusion, wondering why the room was set up in this manner.

“Mr Kim..?” the lady asked, waiting for an explanation. But no one was paying any attention to her, because their eyes were locked on Han Seunghoon who had backed fearfully into the wall. He was staring at something on the floor that only he could see.

_Maggie blinked slowly, her eyelids still feeling too heavy to lift as her brain swam behind her eyes. She struggled to sit up, the room spinning slightly as she tried to focus – the Christmas tree next to her was a mass of blue-green blares of light, the only illumination in an entirely dark room. The window was shut and locked, and the bare wood floor cold to the touch._

_Her disoriented brain registered confusion at the sight – a Christmas tree in April? Where was she?_

_She tried to stand and her stomach immediately lurched. She bent over, retching violently, the remains of her dinner emptying themselves onto the wood floor. She straightened after a few agonizing minutes, fear and anxiety beginning to pound through the fog in her brain._

Han Seunghoon made a break for the door, Sungyeol and Mr Kim barring him and using their combined strength to push him backwards into the arms of the other confused judges. He staggered into them, the male judge beginning to get annoyed to cover his confusion.

 

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing-” he began, but Han suddenly reached out a warning finger.

“Stay away from me,” he threatened, voice too loud, and gaze locked on something in the middle of the room. The words died on the male judge’s lips to be replaced with genuine unease.

“Mr Han, what are you looking at?”

“Can’t you see her?” Han whispered. “She’s right there!”

_A movement in the corner of the room caught Maggie’s attention, and she turned too quickly for her still-dizzy state. She stumbled only to find herself caught in a strong grip, the handsome man from earlier looking down at her._

_“I wasn’t expecting my Christmas present this year to be so pretty,” he said, so close that his breath washed over her face._

_She screamed, and screamed, and screamed._

“I was only nineteen,” Maggie said, and Han Seunghoon shrank back, fingers scrabbling on the wall for purchase. “You’ve lived your whole life. I don’t think that’s fair.”

“No,” he gasped. “I didn’t – it wasn’t me-”

“Can’t you see her?” he grabbed the front of the male judge’s jacket, the man retreating from the frantic glint in Han’s eye, trying to pry his fingers off. The female judge had wedged herself into the corner closest to the door in a complete fright. Min kept an eye on her. 

“You killed Maggie Cho twenty-two years ago,” Myungsoo stepped forward, hands icy but mind on the camcorder hidden in the tree. They needed a straight-out confession – nothing any less would do. “You approached her in this hotel and took her to your home, where you strangled her to death. Didn’t you?”

Han’s head snapped round to Myungsoo, all blood having drained from his face. He opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, shaking his head in dissent. “No. I didn’t kill anyone – the police couldn’t find any evidence-”

“There is evidence,” Myungsoo said, fighting hard to keep his voice from shaking. “You took a picture of her after she was dead, didn’t you?”

_He stepped around the body on the floor, the sound of her last breath ringing wetly in his ears. He frowned at his camera. It was so hard to get a good focus on this thing; he’d have to get another better one soon._

“We have it.”

The female judge muffled a sob, and Min reached out a hand to her without thinking.

Han stumbled backwards, eyes darting around the room, following something. “That’s impossible – I burnt the pictures-” His mouth snapped shut the moment he realized what he had said.

Sungyeol drew in a sharp breath. They almost had him.

“You decided to take those pictures after you killed her because you wanted a souvenir. You wanted something to remember what you’d done, didn’t you?” Sungyeol put his hands on Myungsoo’s shoulders, both to squeeze encouragingly and to stop them from shaking. “Too bad you lost one.”

“You didn’t find anything,” Han threatened, taking a step towards Myungsoo. Sungyeol’s hands tightened on Myungsoo’s shoulders, bracing for a fight.

“They did, I led them to it,” Maggie lied in Han’s ear, Han wrenching himself away from her. “Leave me alone!” he screamed.

“Why her?” Myungsoo pressed. “Why Maggie, of all the people in the hotel that night? Why did you choose her?”

Han wildly swung an arm through thin air in front of him, hitting at nothing. “ _Why her, Han Seunghoon?_ ”

“She was alone – and young-” he answered distractedly, breathing in labored gasps now. “She agreed so easily-”

“Why did you say she was your Christmas present?”

“Stop it!”

“How did you kidnap her? How did you bring her back to your house?”

Han Seunghoon rushed forward, his fists raised, only to be knocked back by some invisible force. Myungsoo took a step forward, and another. A strange feeling was coursing through him, causing his heart to batter in his chest – he realized it was rage.

“You took an innocent girl and you killed her after playing out your sick fantasies. Did you even know her name before you killed her? Why did you do it?”

Han was slowly crawling backwards, away from Myungsoo and his own demons.

“ _Why did you do it!_ ” Myungsoo screamed, over and over till his throat was raw. He grabbed Han Seunghoon by the shirt, yanking him to and fro like a rag doll.

“Admit it, you fucking piece of shit. Admit it.”

Mr Kim made to move towards Myungsoo, worry etched into his face, but Sungyeol held him back, desperately hoping he was doing the right thing. Myungsoo’s face was contorted with pure hate.

Han Seunghoon was sobbing, staring to the left of Myungsoo’s head. Maggie stared back, the bruises on her neck from his fingers standing out in high relief against her pale skin.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t mean to do what?” Myungsoo bit out through his teeth, shaking him again.

“I didn’t mean to kill her,” Han whispered, and Myungsoo let go of him, grim look on his face. He let go a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and turned back to look at Min. She was already dialing for the police.

*

“So… you were pretty much terrifying back there,” Sungyeol said casually, the hotel still overrun with police officers two hours later. They’d all given preliminary statements, the four of them and the two judges, and Han Seunghoon had been brought in for questioning. They’d taken Min’s camcorder and bagged it, and yet still were only just preparing to leave. Sungyeol was holding the hotel doors open for the police moving in and out, and Myungsoo had eventually drifted in his direction.

Myungsoo shrugged. “I got angry.”

“You’re not the Hulk in disguise, are you?” Sungyeol joked shakily, his blood still skittering around in his veins and breath not really coming right. He was going to remember this day for a long, long time to come.

“I don’t think this is going to help any,” Myungsoo replied, ignoring Sungyeol. “All he has to do is say he was forced to confess under pressure and the police wouldn’t be able to hold him. They need hard evidence. It doesn’t matter that all of us heard him say it. What’s worse is that since Maggie didn’t show up on the tape, he just looks like he’s having some kind of psychotic episode. He could just pay off some psychiatrist to say he’s mentally unstable and that’s it.”

“Min copied the clip before she gave the camcorder to the police,” Sungyeol said in a low voice, watching the police officers. “Even if this doesn’t lead to his conviction there are other ways we can destroy him.”

Myungsoo turned to him, eyes still blank. “I hope so.” To Sungyeol’s surprise in front of all the people there he moved into Sungyeol, screwing his eyes shut against Sungyeol’s neck. Sungyeol rubbed his back and held him, murmuring soothing nonsense into his hair. Min watched them quietly from where she stood, thankful that even on a day like this there was still something to smile about. The mistletoe swung above them in the winter breeze.

*

Han Seunghoon walked free.

*

Myungsoo woke one night abruptly, unsure what had jolted him from sleep – he sat up in bed, feeling beside him before remembering Sungyeol wasn’t staying with him that night. The faint memory of cold lips on his cheek was already fading fast, the kiss becoming harder to focus on as Maggie watched him from a corner of the room.

“Thank you, Kim Myungsoo,” she whispered. None of them ever saw Maggie again.

*

They were standing outside the hotel, waiting for Mr Kim who was locking up for the last time. He stood back to join the three of them looking up at the building that had been theirs, soon to be torn down to be remade into a shopping mall, an apartment block, a restaurant. Min was crying, embarrassed and trying her best to stop.

“I’m really very sorry to do this-” Mr Kim started apologizing again for the umpteenth time, only to find himself with an armful of sobbing Min.

“I-will-really-miss-you,” she said in between sobs. “You’ve-been-like-a-fa-ther-to-me.”

“He’s already _my_ father, stop it,” Myungsoo nudged her. Sungyeol nudged him in turn, throwing him a look.

“You’re sure the two of you have interviews already?” Mr Kim asked anxiously, and Sungyeol nodded, squeezing his arm reassuringly. “Who wouldn’t want us? We’re the only ghostbusting-crimefighting hotel staff in Seoul.”

“You mean-”

“No, we didn’t actually put that on our resumes,” Sungyeol smiled.

“At least they’ll be able to pay you better,” Mr Kim said ruefully.

“Maybe. But no hotel management in the country can come close to the one this hotel had,” Sungyeol indicated their building with a nod of his head and a small smile. He hugged Mr Kim tightly, whispering his sincere thanks into Mr Kim’s ear.

“What about you, Mr Kim?” Min asked, wiping her tears with her fingers and drying them on Sungyeol’s shirt. “What are you going to do?”

“Oh,” Mr Kim blushed for a moment, Sungyeol raising an eyebrow. “Um, Yoora – that is, Myungsoo’s mother – has a vacancy in her company, she’s a managing director, so she could – I mean-”

Myungsoo rolled his eyes. “They’re getting back together.”

“Myungsoo!” Mr Kim started, alarmed.

“Oh please, I heard you two giggling on the phone last night.”

“Oh,” Mr Kim said, blush deepening. “But, you know, nothing’s really official yet-” Min hit Sungyeol in delight.

“And we’re going to meet her right now,” Sungyeol informed Min. “Because the ice prince has finally decided to melt a bit after much persuasion from his poor father.”

“I’m not promising anything,” Myungsoo folded his arms in order to look tough, but Sungyeol laughed behind his back. _He’s way nervous_ , he mouthed at Min.

“The… both of you?” Min asked, looking from one to the other. Sungyeol shifted and pretended to be studying the café across the street, but was given away by the grin on his face. Myungsoo tried for an air of haughty carelessness.

“Yes, the both of us, so? He wanted to come, so I’m bringing him along.”

“I see,” Min said, covering the wide smile on her face with a pretend-cough. “Not in any way meeting the mother-in-law.”

“Of course not! What a ridiculous thing to say.”

Mr Kim watched his two boys with a bemused air. Neither had needed to say anything to him for him to have figured it out, eventually – the small touches and glances, Myungsoo staying over at Sungyeol’s more and more frequently, Sungyeol always on his phone when Myungsoo wasn’t at the hotel. He knew what love looked like.

He’d had a brief crisis where he’d wondered if he could accept it – he’d really, _really_ wanted grandchildren – but knew that if he dared say this to Myungsoo it would mean the fight of the century, especially when his own Miss Right had turned his life so upside-down. At least it meant that if he couldn’t marry Minkyung to Sungyeol he could rest easy in the knowledge that Sungyeol was still making someone he loved happy, but only time would tell how this relationship would fare.

Life and love, it seemed, had had unconventional plans for the men of the Kim family from the start. Now he just wondered how Yoora would take the news; he himself was still getting used to it.

Min sighed, looking back at the hotel. “I can’t believe I’m going to miss this place.”

“Yup. I’m going to have to get a real job, now,” Myungsoo said, his flippancy fooling no one. They all knew he had taken Maggie’s disappearance the hardest, and that his rage of that afternoon would never completely fade.

They waved Min off, and then the three remaining began to walk in another direction. Sungyeol wanted to take Myungsoo’s hand, but settled for walking close enough so their arms bumped up against each other – they were getting there, slowly but surely.

They all were.

**


	13. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gratuitious smutty ending~ as requested by the fic's readers when it was first posted

 “How would you like our first time to be?”

The question caught Myungsoo by surprise, and he risked looking away from the galbitang he was making (rather badly) to poke his head around and raise an eyebrow at Sungyeol lounging on his bed.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Well, I know I said we were going to wait, but when it finally happens how do you want it to go? The first time is important, after all.”

“I’d never have taken you for the sentimental type, Yeol.” Myungsoo tasted the soup and made a face. His heart was starting to race because of what they were talking about, but he’d never admit he was anticipating the day Sungyeol’d finally let him in his pants like some horny teenager. He reached for the salt.

“I have a few ideas I’ve been fantasizing about,” Sungyeol said, suddenly appearing in the kitchen and wrapping arms around Myungsoo from behind as Myungsoo tried to focus on his cooking. 

“In the shower?” Sungyeol nuzzled Myungsoo’s neck, lips ghosting over his ear. 

“In a hotel room? Not haunted, of course.” He sucked Myungsoo’s earlobe into his mouth. 

“In the back alley of a club when we’re both drunk and the lights are too bright in our eyes.” 

“Publicly?” Myungsoo pulled away a bit, starting to have a real problem in his pants.

“Nobody would see us,” Sungyeol whispered, and smiled against his skin at the red rising on Myungsoo’s face. He was too easy.

“So, have a think about it and let me know.” In a blink Sungyeol’s arms and heat were gone, back to lounge on his bed fiddling with his phone. Myungsoo took deep breaths. His galbitang was nearly boiling out of the pot.

*

“’Darling’?” Myungsoo laughed and laughed, looking up from Sungyeol’s phone. “That’s my name in your phone? _Darling_?”

Sungyeol shrugged, blasé. “So? I already know I’ve been ‘Him-smiley face emoticon’” Sungyeol read out the emoticon with emphasis, “in your contacts for the longest time. And you say I’m mushy?”

That wiped the grin off Myungsoo’s face.

*

From: darling

_i think i’ve made a decision about our first time_

 

From: him :)

_ok hold that thought_

 

From: darling

_does this mean it’s going to be soon?_

 

From: him :)

_MAAAAYYYBBEEEEE_

 

From: darling

_stupid._

*

Sungyeol shrugged off his coat and scarf, hanging both up carefully before throwing Myungsoo a look. He’d been quiet the entire way back to Sungyeol’s place after saying goodbye to Yoora and Mr Kim, and Sungyeol knew better than to prod. Myungsoo was taking off his gloves slowly, putting each one down carefully before resting his fingers on the top button of his coat. Sungyeol reached over and undid the buttons for him, Myungsoo’s eyes flicking upwards to meet his silently.

“You okay?” Sungyeol asked softly, Myungsoo letting him slide the coat off his shoulders. 

“Yeah. That was just.. strange. Not really sure how to feel right now.”

“That’s to be expected.” Sungyeol unwound the scarf from around Myungsoo’s neck, Myungsoo content to let Sungyeol take care of him. “You haven’t seen her in such a long time, after all. But I thought it went rather well. You look so much like her.”

“She was nice to you,” Myungsoo added, giving his mother a bonus point in his head. 

“I think she’s still confused about why I was there, though,” Sungyeol laughed quietly. 

“She’ll get it soon enough once she sees you a few more times,” Myungsoo said dismissively, taking his coat to go hang it up. Sungyeol’s heart grew wings as he suppressed the smile bubbling up from within. _Once she sees me a few more times_. 

Myungsoo came back to him, folding him in a hug, the wordless thanks loud and clear.  

“Shower,” he mumbled into Sungyeol’s shoulder.

“What?”

“I decided. I want it to be in the shower. Never done it in the shower before.”

“Okay,” Sungyeol said, turning on his heel and pulling Myungsoo towards the bathroom. Myungsoo’s eyebrows shot into his hair. 

“ _Now?_ ”

“You got somewhere else to be?” Sungyeol threw over his shoulder, grinning at the look on Myungsoo’s face. Myungsoo bent down to tear off his socks, hopping on one foot the last few metres to the bathroom. 

Sungyeol closed the door behind them, the tiny space even tinier with the two of them in the bathroom made for one. Sungyeol bent to kiss him, the intensity of it taking Myungsoo’s breath away wrapped together like that, Sungyeol’s hands in his hair and his own inching under Sungyeol’s shirt. 

“I earned it?” Myungsoo mumbled against Sungyeol’s lips as they kissed. 

“You earned it,” Sungyeol affirmed.

Myungsoo tugged on Sungyeol’s shirt hem, and Sungyeol obediently lifted his arms to allow Myungsoo to pull it over his head. This was only the second time Myungsoo had seen him shirtless, and the first time Sungyeol had been covered in ugly bruises; there were only traces left now marring the smooth skin. Myungsoo ran an exploratory hand over Sungyeol’s chest, Sungyeol busy with Myungsoo’s shirt buttons. 

Myungsoo’s shirt now behind them somewhere, Myungsoo’s gaze dropped to Sungyeol’s belt buckle.

“Why are you blushing, Mr. Countless One-Night Stands?”

Myungsoo gave Sungyeol a dirty look. “Who says I’m blushing?”

“The mirror does,” Sungyeol said, moving behind him to turn them both to face the full-length mirror mounted on the wall opposite the sink. Sungyeol caught and held Myungsoo’s gaze in the mirror, a hand on his hip and another trailing towards his jeans button. Myungsoo’s cheeks were pink, uncharacteristic shyness creeping up on him. Sungyeol was right; he’d slept with a lot of girls and he’d never been shy about being naked with them – that was kind of the point – but now the way Sungyeol was looking at him in the mirror as he undid Myungsoo’s jeans button and pulled down the zip was making his cheeks heat and heart pound. For the first time he wanted Sungyeol to think he was the most attractive person he’d ever had, wanted Sungyeol to _want_ him so much he couldn’t think straight and so insecurities he never knew he had were rearing their heads. His competitive nature at the back of his mind hoped Sungyeol’s dick wasn’t bigger than his, as well.

Sungyeol slid his hand into Myungsoo’s jeans, long fingers tracing the hard outline of Myungsoo’s cock through his underwear, eyes still locked on his. Myungsoo fought against the small gasp that left his lips as Sungyeol gripped him through the fabric, hand hidden from sight inside his jeans, the picture they both made in the mirror so erotic Myungsoo could hardly stand it. Sungyeol hooked his thumbs into Myungsoo’s jeans and underwear, pushing them both down Myungsoo’s legs until he was standing naked in front of the mirror, bare skin against Sungyeol. 

“See? Blushing,” Sungyeol murmured.

Myungsoo turned in Sungyeol’s arms and went for his belt buckle. Sungyeol drew a deep breath at the purposeful look in Myungsoo’s eyes, dragging Sungyeol’s pants and underwear down until Sungyeol’s erection popped free of the restraining fabric. Myungsoo cast an appraising eye over Sungyeol’s cock. _Comparable size,_ he thought, his ego soothed. He’d never been this close to someone else’s bare dick before, and for a brief moment he was at a loss as to what to do. 

Sungyeol tugged him upright and kissed him again, bringing their bodies together to feel warm naked skin on skin for the first time. Myungsoo moaned into Sungyeol’s mouth at the friction and heat of it, grabbing a handful of Sungyeol’s ass for good measure.

“I don’t think I’m ready for buttsex yet,” Myungsoo drew back, face serious. Sungyeol instantly burst out laughing and pretended to pout. 

“But I was so looking forward to bending you over the toilet and pounding into your sweet ass till the neighbours heard you screaming my name,” he teased, thoroughly enjoying the look on Myungsoo’s face. “You have a really nice butt.” Sungyeol reached around him and smacked one pert buttock, delicious in the way it made Myungsoo jerk his hips against Sungyeol with a gasp.

“Are you always going to top, then?” Myungsoo asked, put out by Sungyeol’s implication. “And smack me again like that and die.”

“We’ll both top, okay? I know you want to fuck me.” Sungyeol smirked at Myungsoo, cheeks again suffused with red to Myungsoo’s consternation. “Don’t worry, we’re a long way away from buttsex, as you so eloquently put it.” Myungsoo hummed in acknowledgement.

“You know, shower sex should be more spontaneous, like you’re showering and I accidentally walk in on you and then we fuck.”

Sungyeol fought the urge to laugh at Myungsoo again. “You watch too many pornos. Okay then, you’re welcome to go out and ‘accidentally walk in on me’. I’ll act surprised.” 

“Maybe next time.” Myungsoo latched onto Sungyeol’s neck, licking and kissing as he walked them both backwards underneath the showerhead. He turned the shower knob and the water rained down, only for them to both shout and jump away immediately from the rude shock of the icy water. 

“Isn’t the heater on?” Myungsoo scolded, Sungyeol peeking his head out of the bathroom to check. He heard the sound of the switch being flipped and rolled his eyes at Sungyeol’s back. “Stupid.”

Sungyeol kissed him again to shut him up, moving them back under the now-warm water pouring down over their bodies in rivulets. They kissed slowly, enjoying the slide of water-slick skin over skin and tongues tasting each other through the water slipping into their mouths. Myungsoo let his hand fall to Sungyeol’s hip, and tentatively took hold of his cock, feeling the tiny jolt that ran through Sungyeol’s body as he did so. He gripped tighter, beginning to slide his fist up and down Sungyeol’s length, Sungyeol kissing him harder and more desperately the faster he began to move. Myungsoo broke away from the kiss to look down at his hand, water dripping off his eyelashes as he watched his fingers move on Sungyeol’s dick, exploring every ridge and bump of the veins, swiping his thumb over the smooth head to a shudder from Sungyeol. Myungsoo wasn’t sure he knew how to give a blowjob just yet, but he had years and years of experience in handjobs.

He turned Sungyeol around in front of the mirror, arms around him from the back just as Sungyeol had him just now. Resting his chin on Sungyeol’s shoulder, he soaped up his hands and got to work. 

“Watch,” he whispered in Sungyeol’s ear. 

Using both hands, one working the head and the other pumping the length of Sungyeol’s cock, he set up a steady rhythm. The soap made the easy slide of his fingers on Sungyeol’s painfully-hard cock almost obscene, twisting his fist over the head in a way that was making Sungyeol’s knees go weak. He ground gently against Sungyeol’s ass and inspiration struck. He dragged a soapy hand between Sungyeol’s butt cheeks and briefly soaped his own cock before returning his hands to Sungyeol’s dick, the soap on his body and Sungyeol’s ass making it able for him to slide his own cock in between Sungyeol’s butt cheeks, the sensation of it making his eyes flutter closed. He thrust against Sungyeol in time with every stroke on his cock, one hand dipping lower to cup Sungyeol’s balls. Sungyeol reached out and grasped the sink for support. 

Myungsoo bit Sungyeol’s shoulder as Sungyeol watched the stroke of Myungsoo’s hands on him through the mirror, breath coming laboured and hips beginning to buck into Myungsoo’s hands. He twisted his head around to capture Myungsoo’s lips again, kiss sloppy as moans fell from his mouth; Myungsoo pumped his fist harder, trying to make Sungyeol moan as loud as he could, his own cock twitching at the sounds coming from Sungyeol. Sungyeol was utterly gorgeous like this, even with his hair flat against his head from the water and limbs heavy – his skin flushed from the warm water and desire, moaning and panting, hips straining wantonly backwards into Myungsoo so that for a moment Myungsoo wondered how Sungyeol would react if he tried to enter him despite their earlier discussion. The slide of his dick against Sungyeol’s plump cheeks wasn’t nearly enough, and the thought of Sungyeol’s tight heat gripping his cock as Myungsoo fucked him, balls-deep, made Myungsoo bite down again on Sungyeol’s shoulder. There would be marks, later. 

Putting himself aside for now, he focused his attention on making Sungyeol come, anticipating the spectacular moans that would bring. He redoubled his efforts, speeding up on Sungyeol’s cock until Sungyeol let his head fall back, the long line of his throat inviting Myungsoo to run his teeth and tongue down it. 

“Coming,” Sungyeol breathed, and Myungsoo kept going, not stopping through the bucking of Sungyeol’s hips and the unselfconscious shuddering moans that accompanied his release and echoed in Myungsoo’s head, strings of come painting the mirror before them.

Sungyeol turned to kiss Myungsoo lazily, warmth spreading through his blood from the heat of the orgasm. Myungsoo stroked Sungyeol’s calf with a foot, sliding his leg up the outside of Sungyeol’s wet thigh as the water washed away the soap on Sungyeol, the bubbles mingling with Sungyeol’s come and swirling down the drain. Sungyeol grasped Myungsoo to him, turning off the water and grabbing the fluffy towel he’d slung over the top of the bathroom door. 

“Bed,” he said shortly.

He briefly toweled them both down and led them out, Myungsoo feeling awkward at the bobbing of his hard cock as he walked into the living room.  

Sungyeol pushed him down onto the bed, Myungsoo eagerly moving up it to lie underneath Sungyeol and lifting his head for a kiss, but Sungyeol had other ideas. He crawled down Myungsoo’s body and took his dick in his mouth without preamble, the suddenness of the wet heat engulfing his sensitive flesh making Myungsoo jerk in surprise. 

Sungyeol held Myungsoo’s hips down as he sucked, running his tongue up the length of Myungsoo’s cock and swirling it around the head. He wanted to go as slow as he could, taking his time to enjoy the taste and feel of Myungsoo’s cock heavy on his tongue, but the sight of Myungsoo’s legs spread for him and fingers clutching the sheets made him want to give Myungsoo the most intense, powerful orgasm he’d ever had. He set to work, one hand circling the base of Myungsoo’s cock as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked, tightening his lips around Myungsoo’s width. He sent one hand wandering up Myungsoo’s torso, skimming the smooth skin of his stomach to settle at a nipple, tweaking and rolling it between two fingers as he bobbed his head up and down on Myungsoo’s cock till he could see the muscles of Myungsoo’s stomach and ass flexing and relaxing with the sensations coiling through him.

Myungsoo was quiet, brow scrunched in concentration and mouth open in silent gasps, a real contrast to how loud Sungyeol had been. He had one hand in Sungyeol’s hair, trying to push him deeper on his cock and Sungyeol obliged, relaxing his throat and burying his nose in the coarse hair surrounding the base of Myungsoo’s dick. Myungsoo choked out a gasp, trying to mindlessly fuck Sungyeol’s mouth but Sungyeol held him down. He sucked till his jaw hurt, saliva running down Myungsoo’s balls and Myungsoo’s thighs trembling, chest heaving. He came off to give his mouth a rest and used his hand to pump Myungsoo, the saliva lubricating each slide up and down Myungsoo’s cock, the head almost purple. Myungsoo blindly reached a hand down and cupped his own balls, the action making Sungyeol bite his lip at the shamelessness of it. God, it’d be hard waiting till he could fuck this boy. 

He mouthed the head of Myungsoo’s dick as his hand fisted the rest, laying his tongue flat against the head and rubbing till Myungsoo bucked off the bed, head straining into the pillow. He smiled a little to himself; nobody could say he wasn’t good at this. The hand in his hair tightened almost to the point of pain as he resumed sucking, Myungsoo’s heels digging into the mattress. When Myungsoo came it was without warning, making Sungyeol feel lucky that he didn’t get come in his eyes or hair just because he happened to have his mouth on Myungsoo’s cock as he shot his load. He came and came, hot come painting the inside of Sungyeol’s mouth as he held Myungsoo’s cock steady, Myungsoo’s eyes screwed shut and hands fisted in the sheets till he was spent. Myungsoo slowly relaxed, boneless, as Sungyeol swallowed and moved back up Myungsoo’s body to lie next to him, watching his face as Myungsoo tried to get himself together. 

“Warn me next time,” Sungyeol poked Myungsoo’s cheek, and Myungsoo opened his eyes to look dazedly at Sungyeol. “Sorry,” he smiled, still breathing hard as he turned on his side to bury his face in Sungyeol’s neck. Sungyeol drew him close, feeling his rapid heartbeat as his pliant body settled in comfortably next to him. 

“Good?”

“So good. When can we go again?” Myungsoo mumbled against Sungyeol’s neck. Sungyeol chuckled, the rumbling of his laugh in his chest pleasant under Myungsoo’s cheek. 

“Have mercy, Kim Myungsoo,” he mock-pleaded. “You’re going to wear me out.”

“It’s good exercise,” was Myungsoo’s reply. “And I think I’m ready for buttsex.”

Sungyeol shook his head in fond disbelief. “You’re not a girl. You’re going to need preparation. If we rush into it and it hurts too much you’ll never let me touch you again.”

“Well then _I_ could fuck _you_ -"

“Oh, I see how it is!"

“But don’t you want me to fuck you?”

“Hmph.”

Myungsoo grinned and brushed his wet hair out of his eyes, rolling back on his back to stretch like a cat. “Gotcha.”

Sungyeol pushed him till he lay on his other side so that they could spoon. “I like being naked with you,” he murmured against Myungsoo’s hair, tightening his arm around Myungsoo. 

“We should be naked together more often,” Myungsoo nodded. 

“All the time.”

“Indeed.” 

“I should have brought you to meet my mother sooner if I’d known this was what it’d get me.”

“Don’t spoil the moment, idiot.”

*


End file.
